Seventeen Chances
by xx.just.a.contradiction.xx
Summary: [written for JustGiddy] Seventeen oneshots, seventeen different pairings.. one a day for seventeen days. [do you think i've said seventeen enough yet? haha] featuring: KBxOW, AJxFW, ASxGW, HPxGW, RWxHG, BWxFD, among others...
1. Katie x Charlie

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_Happy Birthday to you,  
Happy Birthday to you,  
Happy Birthday to Christinaaaa...  
Happy Birthday to youuuu!_

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**I  
****Snatches of Jealousy and Your Smile.**

**-x- Katie Bell & Charlie Weasley –x-**

'_I like simple songs with pretty words.  
I've tried poetry but it's just no good;  
the pages get lost and besides,  
I'd much rather sing to you.  
I love living life by your side –  
you're a smart kid with a beautiful smile,  
and oh god, those technicolour eyes.'_

'Hey, look at that guy over there!'  
'Oh wow, he is so _cute!_'  
'I know! Check out that smile…'  
'Look at those _eyes_!'  
'Oh! They are like, the most perfect shade of blue ever!'

'Do you _mind?!_'

Having listened to the conversation behind her for quite long enough, one dark eyebrow rising higher and higher with every sighed and giggled word, sixteen year-old Katie Bell rounded on the two preteens angrily, startling them into silence.

'Not only is your pointless conversation annoying the _hell_ out of me, but your topic of conversation just so _happens_ to be my boyfriend! And quite frankly, besides the fact you both look like you should still be in primary school, he's _much_ too old for you anyway even if you aren't eight or something, being _nineteen_ and all!'

Giving a muffled squeak, the pair of them took a few steps backwards, away from the feisty brunette, whose softly curling locks were bouncing around her face as she shook with completely unsuppressed anger.

'Sorry,' one of them muttered sullenly, and they both stood side by side avoiding eye contact with her.

'And so you should be,' she replied, annoyed, before turning around again and resuming her semi-patient wait in the long queue to buy tickets for the upcoming Quidditch match (Puddlemere vs. The Arrows).

As she waited, she sort of felt a tiny bit bad for blowing her stack the way she did, but after all, they were acting like _fan-girls_! Sixteen years of living in Oliver Wood's back pocket had been enough, after all, the guy was an international super-star now, but to have preteens ogling _Charlie_ of all people… well, enough was really enough.

Well, actually, when she thought about it _properly_ it wasn't so much the fan-girlness of the conversation, but more the fact that they had referred to his eyes as blue. Not, of course, that his eyes _weren't_ blue because they were – and even an "amazing" shade of blue at that – but because she'd grown up listening to countless adults fawning over him because of it, and the reason she'd hated that was because his eyes were too beautiful to be referred to as just plain blue.

They were technicoloured, the most expressive things she'd ever known in her life: they could reflect every thought, emotion or feeling Charlie had, and she was seemingly the only one who could grasp this concept fully… everyone else was always too preoccupied with their deep blue colour.

Mid-thought about this particular frustration, she didn't notice said boyfriend and owner of "technicoloured" eyes approaching until the two girls behind her drew in their breath with identical sharp, giggly noises. Rolling her eyes, she turned on them with a glare before quickly changing her facial expression into a pleasant smile, though apparently not fast enough, because when Charlie was within a metre of her he chuckled lightly.

'You wouldn't be intimidating little girls now, would you?' he asked her with a trademark smirk, 'After all, I can't help being ridiculously good-looking, can I?'

Raising an eyebrow in much the same manner as before, Katie laughed.  
'You, Charlie Weasley, don't even _need_ your own fan-girls; you're your own biggest one!'

'Are you implying I'm some kind of narcissist?' he asked with mock offence, before bursting into laughter and scooping her up into his arms, apparently unaware or unconcerned by the amount of people around them.

'I wouldn't blame you if you were,' she replied, wincing as she realised how incredibly sappy it sounded, 'after all, your eyes are "like, the most perfect shade of blue ever!".'

Laughing as the two girls behind them in the queue turned a startling shade of scarlet, Katie winked at them.  
'Sorry girls, but really, it was too good an opportunity to miss.'

'Well you, my anti-fan-girl lover, are completely entitled to your own narcism,' he said as he spun around, her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs flailing outwards, narrowly missing people ever which way, 'after all, your smile is pretty damn amazing.'

'I know, I know,' she said modestly with a laugh, 'I'm planning on immortalising myself in poetry any day now… it'll be titled "Me, Myself and I".'

'What? I don't get a poem?' he asked, setting her back down on the ground and looking down at her with a grin.

'Nope.'

'Not even a song?'

'Nope.'

'And why not?'

'I'm really no poet… and you've heard me sing, haven't you?'

'Uh, yes… on second thoughts, no song.'

Gasping, she smacked him in the face lightly, laughing all the while.  
'I could out-sing you any day!'

'Well yes, you could,' he admitted with a twinkle in his eyes that made her just want to fall into them, 'but I'm even worse than you!'

She shrugged.  
'It's true.'

They stood there in silence for a moment, looking at each other, until Katie melted under his gaze and stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him, completely oblivious to the jealous hisses of the preteen fan-girls and the general murmurs of amusement and disgust around them.

Pulling away, she frowned slightly.  
'That's not fair! You _know_ I have a weak spot for your eyes!'

'Fine,' he mock-sighed, 'smile for me then.'

Confused, she looked at him curiously.  
'What d'you mean?'

'Just do it Kates,' he replied, waiting.

Bewildered, she pulled a face and then indulged him with her best smile – the sunny grin she kept hidden except for when he was around. And then, split seconds after she'd curved her mouth upwards, he swooped down on her and kissed her, his quidditch reflexes not at all rusty, she noted, as the ticket queue moved on past them.

And so the world moved on around them in one fast, blurred motion, too busy and too preoccupied to stand still for a moment to watch an attractive young couple kiss in the middle of a mammoth quidditch ticket queue; the girl with a beautiful smile and the boy with his irresistible, "technicoloured" eyes.

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_A?N: lyrics used are "Techinicolor Eyes" by Backseat Goodbye._

_Okay, so in case you didn't notice, this is a birthday present for the wonderful Christina, known to most of you guys as Just-Giddy.. Happy Birthday darlin'! This is a collection of seventeen oneshots focusing on seventeen different pairings - some canon, others not (because i was hard-pressed to find seventeen canon pairings, amoung other things, lol); and they are being posted one a day for seventeen days. Seventeen of course, being the special number because she is turning seventeen._

_Love, hugs and peace,  
Ash x_


	2. Fleur x Bill

**II  
Second Glances.**

**-x- Fleur Delacour & Bill Weasley –x-**

'_She dances  
Footsteps like raindrops patter across the stage  
Second glances  
She pirouettes and slowly fades away  
Lost my chances  
Who holds the broom that will sweep her off her feet  
Hopeless romantic  
When the lights on the stage fade and just our eyes meet  
And I wonder what would it be  
If for once she was dancing with me  
She seems content to be dancing alone  
So I'll sit and sigh from my seat.'_

He was breathless.

Dizzy and disorientated, Bill didn't know what had come over him; all he knew was that the sight in front of him was the single most exquisite sight he'd ever seen in his life. He was afraid to blink, afraid to miss the tiniest portion of beauty, in case he never saw anything so delicate, so fragile and yet so untouchable ever again.

The Gringotts Christmas party had taken place earlier that evening, and Bill, along with all his other human colleagues had been invited to a small get-together in the Leaky Cauldron, the dining part of which had been magically changed to become more like a function room and less like a drab old bar. The floor had been cleared of tables and chairs, leaving an ample dance-floor for the people to dance on.

The party, however, had long since disbanded and he was the only one left, sitting in a chair in the dark, with only the dregs of a butterbeer on the table beside him for company. He'd been just about to leave when the door had opened and Fleur Delacour, Gringott's newest French interpreter, had slipped back in from the bathroom, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks tear-stained.

Even so, she was still the single-most intoxicating thing he'd ever seen… in fact, her vulnerability seemed to make her, if possible, even lovelier than usual.

However, there was no denying that although looking devastatingly lovely, there was something upsetting her dreadfully, and worried, Bill had opened his mouth to ask her if she was alright. But before he'd managed to get the words out, she'd dropped her sequinned little purse on the ground next to the door, and once having decided that she was quite alone, began to spin around in circles in the middle of the cleared floor space.

Her golden hair fanned out around her as she spun around and around on her tip-toes, at first only in circles, but soon after in delicate, graceful pirouettes and leaps. Her actions were highly-refined, as though she'd been dancing from a very young age, though after a while she seemed to tire of these repetitive, though incredible actions, and soon she was just dancing… just dancing…

Bill's jaw had dropped open, and there was very little he could do to make it close again. She was so free and uninhibited – so very far away from her usual graces and impeccable manners, and he loved her this way. There was nothing timed or measured in the way she moved, it was beautifully wild.

His fixation on her was disrupted, some ten minutes – or was it ten years? or ten lifetimes? – later, when by chance, her eyes fluttered open and landed directly on the corner in which he was sitting, his jaw dropped open in a most undignified manner.

Stopping short mid-twirl, she tumbled backwards onto the floor, in what he felt must have been the first time she'd ever stumbled over her own feet, so graceful was she, and so audible the gasp when she landed. Her own jaw drifted downwards and her gaze met his for the second time that night, though this time the power and intensity of that gaze was so much that they both had to look away, both sets of blue eyes alight with some kind of flame that had only just been kindled.

'I-I…' she started, her musical voice unsure and timid, unnaturally so, for her voice, though light, was always full of some promise of confidence, 'I… vat are you steel doing here?'

'Ju-just, uh, just f-finishing my um, drink,' Bill stammered in reply, shamefully holding up the dregs of his butterbeer for her to see, though he doubted very much whether she _could_ see it due to the lack of light.

'Oh,' she said quietly, looking down at the floor and then seemingly remembering that she was indeed sitting sprawled on the floor, the material of the silvery-grey of her dress lying haphazardly high across her thighs.

'A-are you alright?' he asked, wincing as his voice came out in a sort of squeak, before clearing his throat and trying again, 'It's just… you looked as if you'd been crying.'

'Oh, eet is nuzzing,' she replied, looking infinitely embarrassed now, 'I am just a leetle homesick is all.'

'Ah,' he said, nodding dumbly, seemingly unable to find anything to say.

'I must 'ave looked so seely, dancing around like a leetle girl here,' she said shamefully, hanging her lovely platinum head.

'No!' he blurted out, cringing at the volume of it, 'No, you looked amazing.'

Her pale cheeks flushed slightly and she smiled at him briefly.  
'Do you really theenk so?'

'Yes,' he said firmly, thanking the gods that he'd finally managed to regain some of that self-confidence he was notorious for, 'I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life… you looked so free… so alive.'

She nodded slightly, still smiling at him.  
'I felt so alone, but not in ze bad way… but as if I could stop time and just feel nuzzing but the energy zat comes from dancing… such a beautiful feeling.'

He felt his face split into a smile, and all of a sudden he felt as if he would like nothing more on the planet than to kiss her… but not in the normal, hormonal way, but the desire to kiss her and make her feel loved… he wanted to kiss her in the same way dancing made her feel.

Getting down onto the floor beside her, maintaining a safe distance of a metre or so away so that the urge to kiss her wouldn't overpower him, he offered her his hand.

'My name is Bill Weasley,' he said with a genuine smile, 'pleased to meet you.'

'Fleur Delacour,' she replied with a smile that seemed to reflect his own, 'eet is also a pleasure.'

They sat there for a moment, their hands still clasped together, and there was so much electricity in the air that Bill felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up, but it wasn't the bad kind – it wasn't tension. It was a companionable… intoxicating… surreal kind of electricity, and it was all that he could take to stop himself from pulling her to him and kissing her.

'Vould it be rude of me,' she said suddenly, breaking the silence with a hesitant note to her voice, 'eef I vere to keess you?'

Exhaling a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Bill began to laugh.

Unsure whether he was laughing at her or not, she smiled weakly, but her uncertainty quickly vanished when he stopped laughing all of a sudden and pulled her to him with the slender hand he still had in his grasp. Her body slid gracefully over the dusty floorboards and into his lap, where he gently placed his lips upon hers and kissed her tenderly, in the most exquisitely beautiful way imaginable.

When they pulled apart, it was her and not him that gasped for air, her eyes alight with shock. Staring at him, she breathed in deeply, inhaling oxygen so fast he thought she would hyperventilate as she fell backwards out of his lap so that she was lying with her back on the floor but her slender, lithe legs still entwined with his.

'W-was it okay?' he asked hesitantly, worried.

'Vas eet okay?' she echoed wildly, with a hollow laugh, 'Eet has never been like zat before… eet vas… eet vas… eet vas like ven I am dancing! So vild and passionate, yet delicate and gentle… so free… you are a vonderful keeser.'

His cheeks flushed red with pleasure, Bill grinned, immensely proud of himself. He was just about to ask her to kiss _him_ this time so he could tell her how amazing _she_ was, but she beat him to it, yanking him down to her level by the lapels of his jacket.

It was indescribable.

The world around him instantly vanished and all he could feel was her lips moving against his, her fingertips grazing the back of his neck… and all he could see was her moving across the floorboards in the rippled midnight darkness of the abandoned room, her platinum hair fanned out around her and her feet dancing across the dusty wooden floor, her smile joyful and child-like in its naïveté.

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_A/N: lyrics - "Song For A Dancer" by Stephen Speaks_

Hey there!  
Well, thanks for the reviews everyone, I'm glad you like it so far Giddy! yay.  
i hope you liked this one too - its probably my favourite out of all of them..

Ash x


	3. Ginny x Draco

**III  
****One Sweet Night Full of Your Sweet Lies**

**-x- Draco Malfoy & Ginny Weasley –x-**

'_We are passing trains.  
We are whiplash lovers.  
We are burning wax,  
melting all over each other.'_

Sitting at a table in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, Draco Malfoy sipped at his butterbeer, his white-blonde hair and pale face hidden underneath a dark cloak. Contemplating going to bed, he'd just stood up to order a room when the door-chime tinkled and in walked Ginny Weasley, looking altogether too devastatingly beautiful for her own good.

Falling back into his seat again in shock, Draco stared at her as she walked up to the bar and greeted Tom in a subdued manner, shaking her long auburn locks back over her shoulder with a toss of her magnificent head. She exchanged quiet conversation with him for a few minutes before handing over the necessary amount of money for a room and a butterbeer, and then turned, scanning the near-empty bar for a suitable table.

Her large brown eyes scanned from one side of the room to the other before locking in on Draco with a tiny widening of shock. She squinted, seemingly unable to believe her own eyes, before heading towards him a little wobbly-like, obviously shaken.

Draco had wriggled uncomfortably under her gaze, but now as she headed towards him, his heart beat in his chest rapidly and he screwed his eyes up waiting for her to curse him into oblivion.

'Malfoy?' she whispered as she reached the table, placing her butterbeer down on the table with a shaking hand.

Somewhat startled at the lack of anger in her voice, Draco sat up and opened his eyes, looking at her curiously.

'I can't believe you're here!' she cried incredulously, 'Everyone's been looking for you for over a month! They were so worried that you'd been killed!'

Extremely confused at this point, Draco arched an eyebrow gracefully.  
'What the bloody hell are you talking about Weasley?'

Ginny looked around warily before sitting down beside him, drawing her butterbeer closer and taking a shaky sip. 'I know about the spy thing… I know everything.'

'Uh,' Draco said, still confused, 'what "spy thing"?'

Ginny gave a hollow little laugh.  
'Don't be coy, I know all about how you helped us out in the Last Battle.'

It suddenly dawned on Draco that to make sure none of them harmed him, Snape had most likely told them some story about him helping the Order.

He smirked. Snape had always pretended he didn't care about him, that he was just a burden Lucius had laid upon his shoulders, but Draco now knew better.

'Oh yes,' he said with a cough, glancing around warily for effect, '_that_ "spy-thing".'

Ginny smiled sadly.  
'I can't wait to tell them that I found you, and _here_ of all places.'

Draco found himself feeling slightly guilty.

After all, he'd spent so long regretting his involvement in the Last Battle – in which he'd actually helped kill Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt among others – that it didn't seem right to be sitting here with Ginny Weasley, the girlfriend of the wizarding world's saving grace and martyr, Harry Potter, drinking Butterbeer.

'So how have you been?' she asked him, sipping her butterbeer delicately, in a manner he caught himself finding endearing.

'Oh, you know,' he said with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the horrible bubbling of guilt in his stomach, 'all right I suppose… How about you?'

Ginny lowered her head sadly.  
'It's been dreadful at home… losing Bill and Percy has the been the most horrible thing. I haven't ever cried so much in my life, growing up with six brothers I was never really allowed to, and Fleur's been howling non-stop… Mum and Dad don't speak much… Ron's been staying with Hermione and her parents to get away from it all… a-and with Harry gone…'

She broke off, her eyes filling with tears.

Draco didn't say anything, he couldn't. He'd never felt so helpless in his life, not even in the bathroom that day three years ago, crying into the sink next to Moaning Myrtle.

'H-Harry would have been glad you chose the right side.' She said after a rather long, awkward pause in which she'd been crying quietly.

Draco nearly groaned under the mounting pressure of guilt, anguish and helplessness that was consuming him. Instead, a large grimace appeared on his face, which Ginny took to be a sad smile.

'I'm proud of you Malfoy.' She said softly, reaching out and squeezing his forearm, 'we all are… it couldn't have been easy disobeying your father and Voldemort… we're so grateful.'

Draco flinched and turned away, unable to meet her gaze.

There was a scrape of the chair and she was in front of him, her lovely face looking up at his as she crouched down beside his chair. She didn't say anything, but just reached up and touched his face, sweeping a few stray strands of platinum hair from his pale eyes.

He wanted to shrink away from her touch, her soft fingertips caressing his face burnt him; he almost expected to have scorch marks where she was touching him. But he couldn't… there was something so inexplicably wonderful about her searching brown eyes and delicate face, that he did the one thing he knew he shouldn't do…

He leant down to her and kissed her.

It wasn't the type of kiss she deserved – it wasn't soft or delicate or full of affection like the kisses Potter would have bestowed upon her lovingly, it was hungry and powerful… purely lust-driven.

Taken by surprise by his sudden movement she fell backwards from her crouching position, taking him with her as her hands had clutched at his cheeks upon the contact of his lips upon hers.

They stayed in the awkward position for a few seconds before it became too uncomfortable and they broke apart, breathing heavily.

Smiling gently at him, she got to her feet and began pulling him up the stairs, to where he knew she had a room. His brain was screaming at him not to go, that there was only betrayal, deceit and lies awaiting them both… but he couldn't fight the feelings that had overwhelmed him.

Draco Malfoy, a coward even unto the end.

Stumbling into the room, Ginny pulled him in and kicked the door closed behind them. Stripping off her cloak and gloves, she turned to him and took off his. She stopped, startled, when she saw the expensive dress-pants and Oxford shirt he was wearing.

Then, unbelievably, she laughed.  
'You're still a Malfoy aren't you? Do you even _own_ a pair of jeans?'

He shook his head, relieved at being able to impart some kind of truth upon her. But to the horror of his brain and the roaring approval of everything else, she leant in and kissed him again, and all the lies, deceit and betrayal melted away in the awe-inspiring power of her beauty.

She was everywhere at once; kissing his lips, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking off her own shoes… she was astoundingly fast. Draco barely had time to keep up with her as he shrugged her long-sleeved knit shirt over her head and fumbled with the laces on his shoes.

And before he knew it they were on the bed, he lying on his back, she leaning over top of him, her torso and stomach naked except for her bra, her long red hair falling over top of his face.

And before he could think again, they were under the sheets, all their clothes and accessories strewn about the room... and then he lost consciousness of everything but her...

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_A/N: lyrics - 'Perfect Strangers' by INXS._

_okay, okay -ducks- i know a lot of you don't like this pairing, but i defend myself with three.. defences? lol.  
First off - I quite like the pairing, its your classic Romeo&Juliet kind of pairing and I'm a sucker for Shakespeare.  
Second - YOU try finding seventeen HP 'ships and not include this one.  
Third - it COULD happen. i'm not saying it ever will, but it could. Ginny's always struck me as the type to want something more than your average teen-love story._

_Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it..  
Ash x_


	4. Alicia x George

**IV  
****Believe.**

**-x- Alicia Spinnet & George Weasley –x-**

'_I'm surprised that you've never been told before  
That you're lovely and you're perfect  
And that somebody wants you  
I'm surprised that you've never been told before  
That you're priceless and you're precious  
Even when you are not new…'_

The one thing that struck George Weasley about his best-friend and long-time love interest Alicia Spinnet, was that she had the worst sense of self-esteem he'd ever seen. That said, he himself was not brilliant at believing in himself, having lived constantly in the shadow of not only Charlie, Bill and Percy, but also his own twin, Fred; but in his own humble opinion, his sense of self-worth screamed narcism compared to Alicia's.

Constantly allowing herself to be pushed into the shadows by Angelina and Katie, who were easily two of the most outgoing girls in the history of Hogwarts, Alicia seemed unable or unwilling to step out into the spotlight, and George had had just about enough of it. It wasn't as if she didn't _deserve_ to have the attention for once, because she extremely talented: he'd seen the poems she wrote when she thought no one was looking, and one note uttered from her lovely throat was enough to make him transfixed as she sang quietly to herself whilst working away at her Transfiguration homework.

In short, Alicia Spinnet was not getting what she was due, and he had decided it was up to him to fix this.

As they sat together one quiet Sunday afternoon by the lake, dangling their feet in the cool shallows, the warm spring sun filtering down upon them, George marvelled at her intense beauty. Well, perhaps "intense" wasn't the right word – there was nothing "intense" about her, but she was magnetically, delicately beautiful… with her pale skin, dark chocolate locks and slight build, she was arresting to his senses and it was all he could do not to just turn and tell her that in as many flowing, poetic words as possible.

Looking up from her quiet inspection of a dandelion, she smiled at him uncertainly.  
'What're you staring at?'

Biting his lip, he contemplated telling her, but found himself unable to.  
'Oh nothing, just staring off into space as usual.'

She laughed and shook her head gently.  
'You've been doing that a lot lately, you know.'

He smiled broadly at her, before leaning down and running his fingers through the clear water, flicking them up at the last minute so that she got a bit wet.

'George!' she cried, laughing again as she daintily wiped the water from her face.

He chuckled, waiting for her to splash him back, which she did as soon as he looked away for a moment. Filling both small hands with water she dumped it over his head and got to her feet, sprinting away as he coughed and spluttered, grinning like a maniac all the while. Springing up he ran after her, his bare feet thumping down into the long, lazy, unmown grass of the grounds as he chased her.

'You sly minx!' he called after her as they ran, and she turned, slowing down to smile at him, whereupon he caught up with her and swept her up off her feet, spinning her around and around in his arms.

Shrieking, she flung her arms around his neck to keep her tiny frame from flying out of his strong grasp, and laughing hysterically, held on as he danced about with reckless abandon, seemingly oblivious to the small group of people who had gathered just outside the castle to watch the beautiful sight before them.

She was so thoroughly engrossed in the moment that she failed to notice Katie and Fred, who had snuck down to hide behind one of the trees nearby, each equipped with a camera, with which they began to snap as many photographs as possible.

Just making out Fred in his dizzy haze, unbeknownst to Alicia, George winked at his twin, before with one final spin, he set her down on the ground, tumbling to the grass when he realised he was unable to stand up straight. She herself, fell in much the same fashion two seconds later, and as they both lay sprawled in the grass, their limbs entwined, she was still laughing quietly.

'I haven't laughed that much in forever, you know,' she whispered to him, smiling as she turned her head to look at him, their noses almost touching, 'thank you George.'

Smiling in return, George leant down and kissed her gently on the lips; unassuming in nature, it was the perfect first kiss, sweet and simple.

He held her there for a few seconds before pulling away, just in time to see Fred walk up, all amused grin and mischievously twinkling eyes. Sitting up with a sharp intake of breath, Alicia cringed as her cheeks flushed a bright scarlet.

'Having fun there, are we?' Fred asked with one raised ginger eyebrow, before handing George a large leather-bound book and walking off again, whistling a merry tune as he went.

Thoroughly confused and still a brilliant red, Alicia looked at George curiously.  
'What's going on?'

Remaining silent, George handed her the book, smiling slightly with nervous anticipation as she took it with a suspicious glance.  
'What is it?'

'Open it and you'll see,' he replied quietly, leaning back on his hands and waiting.

Placing the heavy book in her lap, she raised a delicate eyebrow at him before opening it and promptly gasping. Flicking through the pages, she stammered, trying to think of something to say, but unable to find any words.

Each page contained at least one photograph and a few lines of the poetry she'd written and kept hidden in the bottom of her trunk, and beside these items, George had written a paragraph or so explaining his choice of items and how they related to something he loved about her. She sat in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity, before she looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

Worry suddenly flitted through his facial expression as he realised she was crying.  
'What's wrong? Don't you like it?'

'I love it,' she said sincerely, her voice wavering as she tried to keep herself in check, 'it's beautiful… the most amazing thing anybody's ever done for me.'

George could help it, he grinned, his face almost splitting in two the grin was so wide.  
'I'm so glad you like it… I hoped you would.'

'How could I not? This is amazing… you've made me feel so… beautiful.' She replied in wonder, as she realised that this was indeed, the truth.

'You _are_ beautiful already, you didn't need me to help you at all… you _are_ beautiful Alicia.' He said earnestly, taking the book from her lap and placing it carefully beside him, before pulling her closer to him and gently kissing her again.

And this time, the kiss wasn't unassuming, it was confident and full of an inexplicable rush of love and passion… as if he was trying with all his might to transfer this earnest wonder of all the things she was to him, to her, so that she would understand just how amazing she was, not only in his eyes, but to _everyone_ and in _every_ way…

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - 'F.N.T' by Semisonic._


	5. Lily x James

**V  
****The Cure.**

**-x- Lily Evans & James Potter –x-**

'_I must be dreaming  
Or we're onto something  
I must be dreaming  
For I don't fall in love lawlessly  
I must be dreaming  
Or pinch me to waking  
So undeniably yours  
As long as I'm losing it so completely'_

Much to the annoyance of red haired, green eyed Lily Evans it was a Monday.

Merlin, she hated Mondays.

It wasn't so much the fact that it was the start of the week, but more the fact that Mondays entailed the worst set of lessons imaginable: Double Potions with the Slytherins, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies.

And even worse yet, Mondays at Hogwarts seemed to be the day for things to happen… "things" in this case meaning "highly unusual and quite unwanted events".

She had first obtained this slightly unorthodox opinion of Mondays a few months ago, when in the middle of a Charms class, she had found herself becoming quite fixated with the back of someone's head. The afore mentioned head had become a point of fixation for her, as she had come to discover that she found it most attractive, what with its messy, pitch-black hair and strong, muscular stature. In fact, she had found it almost lust-worthy and spent countless minutes grinning like an idiot as she tried to place the undoubtedly gorgeous face that went with it; that is, she _had_ until its owner had turned around to look at her, and to her utmost horror she'd discovered that it was, in fact, James Potter's head.

Sickened with herself, she had snapped some kind of insult at him, which had not only deeply offended him, innocent as he was, but had also landed her a detention… in fact, her _first_ detention _ever_.

And the Mondays just kept on getting more and more obscure… Why, just last Monday, she had spent a good hour or so in Transfiguration animatedly chatting with Black and Lupin, Potter's two best-friends, and had even become so thoroughly involved in the conversation as to ask after Potter himself, who had not been present in the class (he'd been injured at a quidditch practice). The reaction gained by this little slip-up had been profound, and now, suddenly, not only was Potter greeting her cheerily in the hallways, but Lupin and Black also, whose entire attitude towards her had changed significantly. 

And today? Oh yes, today was worst of all… Not only had she managed to land herself a detention with McGonagall on account of _not doing her homework_ – something unheard of in the six and a half years she'd attended Hogwarts – but she was sitting next to James Potter and _enjoying_ it.

Yes, she knew it was quite unheard of, but nevertheless, the truth needed to be faced… Potter was proving himself to be quite good company. He hadn't once asked her to Hogsmeade, nor had he preened himself once. He hadn't even asked her why she hated him; he'd merely gotten on with his work, and then, at a prompt from Black, who'd been sitting in front of them, had managed to carry on a conversation between her and himself for about ten minutes now, a conversation that she was finding most enjoyable indeed. It was mostly just nonsense: speculation on whether Madam Pince or Madam Pomfrey would be better suited to Filch and childish things such as that, but she was finding herself laughing hysterically and genuinely _smiling. _

And now, even as the bell rang for lunch, she found herself packing up her things and wandering out to the Great Hall with him, his band of Marauders or whatever they called themselves these days, following along in their wake, jaws slightly ajar.

Lily couldn't help but find him arrestingly interesting when he talked: the way his mouth seemed to stay in a permanent smile, even while he was chatting away, was inexplicably adorable, and – wait. Adorable? Oh dear Merlin, she was becoming one of _them_. One of _those_ girls… the ones that worshipped the ground he and Black stood on simply because of their physical attributes and arrogant charms.

'So then, he says "oi, Prongs mate, what're you doing?" and I say – wait, Lily, what's wrong?'

Pausing mid-sentence, James looked at her curiously, mistaking the disgusted, shocked look on her face for one that was meant for him and not for herself.

'Wha-? Oh, nothing James, it's nothing.'

It was her turn to look at him curiously now, because his face had instantly lost all of its worry and had split into a smile of pure joy.

'What? What's happened? Did one of your little fan-girls just strip or something?' she asked, glancing around half-expecting to see a topless fourth-year or something of that nature.

'No,' replied James, laughing softly at the crudeness of her question, 'you called me "James"; you've never used my first name before…'

Feeling quite horrible, she smiled weakly.  
'Oh… well, I – I should use it more often then, shouldn't I, really?'

'Yes,' he said, still smiling goofily, 'you should… I like the way you say it, it sounds so… nice.'

Normally, this kind of talk would have had her up and running away as fast as she could, stalker-like and deranged-yet-sweet as it sounded, but today, she found herself smiling with pleasure instead. Really, she thought to herself, she'd been too hard on James Potter, after all… nobody had ever said she sounded nice when she talked before.

'We – well, I'm glad,' she found herself stuttering, looking up at him and feeling something jolt in her stomach – something she'd never quite felt before.

'May I escort you to lunch, Miss Evans?' he enquired sweetly, taking her book-bag from her and slinging it over his shoulder before offering her his arm.

Giggling – wait, _giggling? _Since when did she _giggle_? – she accepted his offer and walked with him through the entrance of the Great Hall, where Black, Lupin and Pettigrew were already sitting, hoeing into their lunch with indecent enthusiasm.

Well, at least they _had_ been before she and Po-_James_ had walked through the door, arm in arm. Now, they were less indecently stuffing themselves and more staring shamefully at them as she and James walked the length of the Great Hall and sat down on the other side of the long bench.

Laughing along with James at the look on his friends' faces, Lily smiled to herself, and as she leant forward to serve herself some shepherd's pie, she decided that she would have to reconsider Mondays… after all, they could no longer be defined as the day for "highly unusual and quite unwanted events" to happen, could they?

More like, the day for "rather too late dawning realisations ensuing after an attack of the love-bug"… Insane, yes, but after all, what better way to be when realising one is quite in love with James Potter?

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Must Be Dreaming" by Frou Frou._


	6. Angelina x Lee

**VI  
Your Bittersweet Reactionary.**

**-x- Angelina Johnson & Lee Jordan –x-**

'_Like anyone would be  
I am flattered by your fascination with me  
Like any hot blooded woman  
I have simply wanted an object to crave  
But you're not allowed  
You're uninvited  
An unfortunate slight.'_

For the first time all week Angelina Johnson felt relaxed and ready for an adventure.

The workload these last seven days had been phenomenal and now, as she followed Katie and Alicia as they moved slowly forwards in the queue of students waiting to be allowed through the gates of Hogwarts and on to the path to Hogsmeade village, she felt truly able to take a deep breath and forget about anything else other than having a good time.

'Argh, I wish Filch'd hurry up with his stupid list so we can get to Hogsmeade _some_ time this week,' Angelina hissed as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, trying to stay at least a little warm amidst the bitter weather.

Murmuring their agreement, Alicia and Katie smiled briefly at her and walked through the gates, just before a loud shout sounded behind them and Angelina felt something hit the back of her head with a dull thud. Frowning, she reached up to her hair – it hadn't hurt, but the feeling had been curiously familiar, almost like a wad of chewing-gum hitting her…

'JORDAN!'

Laughing hysterically, one Lee Christopher Jordan fell out of the queue, clutching his stomach helplessly, his wand still in his hand which undeniably marked him as the chewing-gum throwing culprit. George, standing beside him, was trying extremely hard not to laugh, while Fred was long gone, clutching his brother's arm for support as he cackled.

'Eurgh, Ange you poor thing,' Alicia said quietly, leaning forwards to inspect the damage with a grimace, 'oh that is _gross_!'

'I bet it's really stuck in there too,' Angelina remarked sourly, clenching her fists in rage, 'Jordan never does anything half-arsed when he's aiming to piss me off.'

'You'll have to go to the bathroom in Hogsmeade and pull it out,' Katie said, holding out her hand and inviting her through the gates, 'c'mon; we'll go to the Three Broomsticks: Madam Rosmerta will help.'

'I really don't want to have to walk all the way down there with this in my hair,' Angelina replied with a sigh, casting an icy glare over at the still-laughing Lee, 'besides, by the time I get down there it will have frozen to my head… no, its all right, I'll go quickly back to the dorm and get it out, I'll meet you down there.'

'Are you sure?' Katie asked, sneering loyally at Fred and Lee, who were on their tip-toes inspecting the extent of their damage, 'We can stay back and help you…'

'No, its fine, you two have dates with the redheaded buffoons, I don't want to ruin that,' she replied, moving away from them and out of the queue, 'go on, I have to go and do a spot of Jordan-murdering anyhow.'

With sympathetic looks, Katie and Alicia stepped back down the path, out of the way of the other students, and upon meeting up with the twins, walked towards the village, throwing worried glances back over their shoulders at her.

Seething, Angelina marched straight past the queue of students and started to climb the staircase, heading for the Gryffindor tower.

'Stupid, bloody Jordan, argh, I'd love to kick his arse right now.'

These muttered threats, wishes and generally blood-thirsty remarks continued all the way through the castle and were still being hissed through her clenched teeth as she stomped up the stairs to her dormitory. Bursting into the room, she marched into the en suite and lit the candle near the mirror, leaning forwards to inspect the damage done to her long, braided hair.

Upon realising that the gum had managed to encompass at least a third of the back of her head, she uttered a few more choice words before taking her braided strands gently out of their ponytail and began to pick the gum out of them, swearing with every bit of the sticky substance that got clogged up under her fingernails.

She remained in much the same state of action for about fifteen minutes, before angrily realising that she couldn't reach a lot of the gum as it was in an awkward position on her skull. Reaching for her wand, she was just about to charm it out when she remembered poor Eloise Midgen, who upon trying to curse her acne off had accidentally removed her nose. Deciding that she quite liked her hair and head how they were, she walked timidly back downstairs to see if anyone that was down there would be someone she could ask to help her with her gruesome task.

She had just clumped into the middle of the room and scanned it quickly, her heart sinking as the situation looked most unpromising, when a husky male voice hiccoughed with laughter behind her and she turned to see none other than Lee Jordan sprawled across the sofa, his own dreadlocked hair dangling in his brown eyes.

'Jordan? What are you doing here?' she said, confused, before changing tact completely, 'But actually, I really don't care. Do you think this is _funny_ do you?'

'N-' he started to say, but was interrupted when she lost her cool.

'HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK PUTTING GUM IN SOMEONE'S HAIR IS FUNNY? DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ IDEA HOW LONG IT'S GOING TO TAKE TO GET THE STUPID STUFF OUT! SEVERAL HOURS _AT LEAST_ BECAUSE IF I USE MAGIC I RUN THE RISK OF SCALPING MYSELF!'

The Common Room was deathly still, everyone either painfully averting their eyes from the scene unfolding or watching silently, gob-smacked at the sheer volume of her voice, a volume even ex-student Oliver Wood, Bellower-Extraordinaire would have been proud of.

In this awkward silence, Angelina panted heavily, glaring at Lee, who was sitting on the lounge, his face distorted painfully as though he was waiting to be punched. After a few seconds, in which he _hadn't_ been punched, he dared to open one eye and was stunned to see that she was still glaring at him, seemingly unable or unwilling to inflict some sort of bodily harm upon him.

'Y-you aren't going to kick my arse?' he asked suspiciously, clutching the rug next to him just in case he needed some kind of shield.

'No,' she answered coldly, still breathing heavily, 'because if I want to get some kind of sleep tonight I'll have to continue to pull your stupid gum out of my hair or else I'll be up well past midnight.'

Turning on her heel, she got halfway up the stairs before stopping when she heard his voice, humble and completely unassuming for an extremely delightful change.

'Ange, I'm really sorry.'

She was just about to blast him for a second time when she noticed the look on his face… it wasn't a fake, puppy-eyed expression: the one he usually gave her when he wanted forgiveness; it was a sincerely apologetic expression, almost fearful…

'Look,' he continued quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, 'why don't you stay down here and _I'll_ help you get the gum out?'

'Uh,' she answered, unable to help herself, 'because you, you immature, selfish pig, will probably put more gum in my hair or pull some other ridiculous prank on me.'

He winced.  
'Okay, so I deserved that, but I promise Ange, I'll just help you get it out and then I'll leave you alone – won't even talk to you any more if that's what you want.'

'I-I um,' she stammered, confused at the expression on his face, the tone of his voice, and the butterflies that had suddenly appeared in her stomach for no apparent reason, 'I… I don't really want everyone watching me pull my braids apart; my hair looks gross when that happens.'

He laughed a little, a lopsided smile present on his face.  
'Why don't you come up to our dorm and I'll fix you up there – oh wait, that sounded really suss.'

She snorted, smiling in spite of herself.  
'Yes, yes it did, but it sounds like a good idea anyway – _no_ wait, ew, Jordan, not in _that_ way.'

They held each other's gaze for a moment before erupting into good natured laughter. Shaking her head and quite unable to believe she was doing it, she followed Lee up the staircase to his dormitory.

'Ooh, um, ignore the, err, mess,' he said, his dark cheeks flushing pink slightly as they walked into the completely trashed room, 'uh, um, that's Fred and George for you.'

Raising an eyebrow, she picked her way over to the cleanest bed and sat down gingerly.  
'I'll just sit here, shall I?'

Running a hand through his dreadlocks, he shrugged and followed her, sitting cross-legged behind her and inspecting the damage he'd done to her beautiful, long locks. Cringing, he leant over her shoulder.

'Oh, um, I really made a mess of it didn't I? Sorry.'

She rolled her eyes.  
'Yes Lee, yes you did.'

Looking back on the whole chain of events later, Angelina was quite unable to believe that she'd spent an entire afternoon in the presence of Lee Jordan without wanting to wring his neck. On the contrary, once they'd gotten over their initial stage of awkwardness, it had turned out to be a rather enjoyable time indeed. His fingers as they'd worked nimbly through her braids, had been soft and gentle, and she'd eventually fallen asleep, collapsing backwards into his lap, where she'd stayed until he'd all but gotten the gum out.

Yes, Lee Jordan had surprised her, and no matter which way she looked at it, she had no choice but to admit, that while annoying, stubborn and immature as he was, the boy did have something special, even if it was only his amazingly gentle way of charming her when no one else was looking.

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - 'Uninvited' by Alanis Morisette_


	7. Cho x Cedric

**VII  
****Masquerade.**

**-x- Cho Chang & Cedric Diggory –x-**

'_You found me  
When no one else was looking  
How did you know just where I would be?  
You broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see.'_

Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Seeker and the Hogwarts epitome of charm, was in all aspects of life, a winner.

He was quite easily the best looking guy in his house, a pretty decent flyer that could hold his own among the best, had good grades, and was never the loser when it came to a love-triangle. However, as charming and good-looking as he was, he was quite modest, and whenever anyone was heard rambling on about him – something that happened quite regularly – you could be sure to find him blushing good-naturedly in the midst of a large group of friends; and this just made everyone like him more.

Yet, beyond this seemingly perfect exterior, if you cared to look, you could find someone who wasn't nearly so sure of himself, and someone, who although seemed to have everything together, actually didn't have the first clue with what to do with his life. His days were spent hiding behind a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, male-model mask, and that was all he knew. He didn't understand how people could wear their heart on their sleeve, it was a concept that he just couldn't grasp, and no matter how much he tried to wipe that perfect smile off his face so that people could see that lost, unassuming boy inside, he just couldn't do it.

And so, consequentially, here he was, hidden away in the Prefects bathroom at midnight, staring up through the large window at the night sky, trying hard to blink back the tears that fought to pour down his face onto the hastily written letter in his lap… tears that would mill into the ink and smear away forever the cruel words written by an angry parent.

_Dear Cedric,_

_If you need to contact me you'll have to send your letters to me at your grandmother's house…  
your father, I'm afraid, has finally crossed the line with his dithering and whatnot,  
and I just can't be in the same house as him at the moment.  
I would say it's nothing to worry about, but honestly darling, this time I think it is.  
__I just don't understand him.  
I'm sorry darling; write to me when you get this so I know you're all right.  
Love,  
Mum._

Looking down at the letter again, he laughed hollowly before scrunching it up in one large fist and lobbing it as far away as he could, where it skidded across the tiles for a few metres before stopping at a small pair of slippered feet.

Startled, Cedric blinked, the dim light stopping him from being able to make out who it was he'd accidentally thrown the letter at.

'Oh, I'm really sorry, am I interrup – never mind, I'll just go.'

The voice was gentle, delicate with a soft Scottish lilt... a voice that could only belong to one girl: Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw prefect and quite easily the most attractive girl in his year.

Embarrassed, Cedric felt his pale cheeks flush a brilliant red.  
'No, no, don't go on account of me, I was just leaving anyway.'

Getting to his feet, he quickly strode over to where she was standing, and flashing her a brief smile, he picked up the hated letter and made to walk past her, but she reached out and took a hold of his forearm, in an action so gentle and unassuming he probably wouldn't have felt it had he not seen her do it.

'You look upset, are you sure you're all right?' 

He coughed awkwardly.  
'Uh, yes, yes I'm fine.'

'Oh, all right then.'

Letting go of him, she stepped forwards into a stream of moonlight, and he was surprised to see that her cheeks were wet, tear-stained from a recent bout of crying. She cringed as she realised he'd noticed and quickly wiped her cheeks with the arm of her satin dressing-gown, smiling slightly as if she hoped to distract him from the sight.

'Are _you_ all right?' he asked, concerned, stepping forwards onto the strip of floor illuminated by the moon, so that both their faces were half-shadowed and half-lightened, creating an eerie effect that sent shudders up both their spines.

'Oh, I'm fine,' she whispered hoarsely, unable to look him in the eyes.

'No you're not,' he said quietly, looking down at her delicate features and averted brown eyes, 'you've been crying.'

'And you were _about_ to before I came in,' she said quickly, making him smile at her quick-wit.

'So we're both upset, hiding away in a bathroom at midnight,' he said with a light-hearted laugh and shrug, 'how strange.'

'Not nearly as strange as some of the things that happen around here,' she said coyly, taking a step away from him so that she was in the shadows again, 'after all, having a letter thrown at you by the ever-gentlemanly Cedric Diggory is by far much stranger.'

'Being psychoanalysed by none other than Cho Chang is at the top of my strange-list,' he said with a smirk, stepping into the shadows with her.

'I don't know, having Cedric Diggory mirror every step I take,' she continued with a cheeky glint in her eyes, as she took three more steps to the left and then backwards, 'might top mine.'

'Cho Chang thinking I'm stalking her might just have replaced my top one,' he countered, mirroring her three steps and then taking one more so that he was nearly touching her, 'after all, I'm no stalker.'

'I beg to differ, Mr. Diggory,' she said, turning and sprinting away from him into the darkness where he could no longer see her, 'you are indeed, stalker-material… because I can bet you the next outcome of our next match that you are going to start looking for me at any second now.'

'And what if I were just to walk out and leave you here in the dark?' he said, surprising himself at this attempt at scaring her, he'd never had the urge to frighten a girl before, but she was just so _elusive_, 'would that prove that I have no stalker-tendencies?'

'Please don't!' she cried out, her voice wavering with an echo off the walls of the marble bathroom.

He laughed.  
'And what kind of guy do you think I am Miss Chang, one that would leave a girl by herself in a castle at midnight?'

'Enough with the "Miss Chang",' she replied, ignoring his question, 'my name is Cho.'

'Enough with the "Mister Diggory" then,' he retorted, 'my name is Cedric.'

'Don't I know it,' she replied with a laugh, 'you're all my friends talk about, you know; it's always "Cedric this" and "Cedric that"… quite the charmer, aren't you _Cedric_?'

He cringed: he hadn't wanted to delve into that with her… he'd just been having the most wonderful time idly flirting with her and now she wanted to bring up his little masquerade.

'How do you know that I'm not like that? How do you know I'm not just some stupid boy with family problems and no life-plans?'

There was a stunned silence, in which he reflected on what he'd just said and she pondered them thoughtfully. And then, he laughed hollowly. 'That's the first time I've ever anything like that to, well, anyone…'

'Tell me more…' she said quietly, and he could hear her sit down on the floor wherever she was, the rustle of her satin night-clothes giving her away, 'I don't sleep much these days, so you have all night.'

'Not quite yet,' he replied, getting down to the floor and sitting down upon it, his back up against the cold marble floor, 'tell me something you've never told anyone first… it's only fair.'

'Sly, Cedric, sly,' she said with a giggle, before sitting back against something herself, 'hmm… something I've never told anyone… hmmm… I haven't actually been asked to the Yule Ball yet… I made up some lie about Roger Davies asking me to keep a few boys off my back.'

He laughed.  
'That's it? That's your big secret?'

'What?' she asked indignantly, peering through the dark, trying to see his face, 'do you expect me to tell you that I live a lie every day? That I'm actually a scared, silly little girl who doesn't understand the concept of being herself?'

'That's exactly what I wanted to hear.'

'Oh.'

There was an uncomfortable silence, before Cedric leant forward onto his left hand, his right holding his now ignited wand. The light faintly illuminated the bathroom, and suddenly, there she was in front of him, not two metres away from where he sat.

Grinning, he raised one perfect eyebrow.  
'Tell you what, Miss Chang.'

'It's Cho,' she said quickly, with a smile, 'and what Mr. Diggory?' 

Getting to his feet, he walked softly over to her, his bare feet making gentle slaps as they connected with the cold marble floor. Leaning down, he held one hand out gently for her to take, which she did and he pulled her to her feet gracefully.

They stood, quiet for a moment, Cedric looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his handsome face, before he spoke.

'Will you, Cho accompany me to the Yule Ball?' 

There was another silence, in which she drew her breath in quickly, her cheeks flushing a slight pink in the dim light, and then she laughed merrily. 'Yes, I'd like that very much.'

He grinned, before winking at her.  
'There's one condition, though.'

'Oh?' 

'You have to keep me up all night telling me more of those things that you've never told anybody else.'

'Just as long as you do the same for me.'

'It's a date.'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics - "You Found Me" by Kell Clarkson._

_well, i know a lot of you think Cedric/Chop stories are boring, but i love them.. this one was one of the few i felt happy with out of this series.. i loved the idea of them being able to see through each other's whole "pretty and perfect" facade they seem to have going on.. i always believed that they had more substance as characters than JK Rowling let on. _

_Ash x_


	8. Katie x Oliver

**VIII  
****Past, Present & Future**

**-x- Katie Bell & Oliver Wood –x-**

'_Maybe it's intuition  
But some things you just don't question  
Like in your eyes  
I see my future in an instant..  
..I know that it might sound more than  
a little crazy but I believe…'_

Oliver Wood was on a mission.

Having managed to secure an afternoon free of studies, he had spent most of those three precious hours listlessly day-dreaming about his best-friend and long-time secret crush, his chaser Katie Bell; but having been caught out by Fred and George, he'd decided at long last that something needed to be done before she either found out by herself or he drowned in his own saliva.

And so, he was on a mission to catch her as she came out of Charms and walk her to dinner, and therefore on the way to the Great Hall, confess his undying love for her. This was proving a lot harder than he'd first thought it would be, not because he had encountered any obstacles – on the contrary, his trip to the Charms corridor had been unusually quiet – but because he kept stopping every few metres and having some kind of private, silent panic attack.

However, much to his amazement, he had made it to the classroom with five minutes to spare, and so, he stood there, fidgeting restlessly, waiting for the bell to ring so he could just get it over and done with. Not exactly a romantic attitude, but it was the most you could expect of him, after all, he was a quidditch player not a bloody poet.

Not two minutes after he'd arrived at the classroom however, the door to his left opened and none other than Katie herself walked out, looking unusually pale and quite like she was going to be sick. Stepping out into the corridor, she doubled over for a minute, breathing in deeply, before straightening up, setting her jaw and walking straight into him.

'O-Oliver?' 

Having practically died on the spot as soon as he'd realised it was her that had just exited the classroom, Oliver could do little more than squeak in the affirmative, a squeak that had less to do with the violent connection of her forehead with his chest and more to do with his complete and total lack of confidence, a much-needed character trait that had chosen completely the wrong moment to disappear without a trace.

'Oh, um, oh god, um… you actually, well, you see…' 

Smiling slightly at his inability to make any kind of sense, Katie raised an eyebrow, though, Oliver noted, her face had not lost its pallor, in fact, the pallor seemed to have increased.

'Wh-what are you doing here?' she asked, stammering a bit herself and licking her lips nervously.

'Well, you see,' he started, exhaling loudly, 'I uh, I um, I actually needed to talk to _you_, uh, actually.'

'Oh?' she said, surprised, before scuffing her foot on the ground, another nervous habit of hers, 'That's interesting, because I was um, actually looking to erm, talk to you too.'

'Really?' he blurted out loudly, cringing at the volume.

'Uh, yes,' she replied, her voice unusually high, 'because you see –'

**BANG!**

She was kept from continuing this sentence at this point, by a rather loud explosion that occurred not two feet from them, sending them flying in opposite directions down the corridor.

They lay in painful silence for a moment, dazed, as the sound of two mysteriously simultaneous pairs of footsteps clattered in an echoing way down the corridor before disappearing altogether, their cackles of laughter fading away also in much the same fashion.

Groaning, Oliver sat up, frowning as he realised his face felt rather strange. Reaching up with one hand, he gasped when he realised his eyebrows had been singed off. A similar yelp from a few metres away assured him that he was not the only one missing something and he crawled over to where Katie was sitting, inspecting the frayed ends of her beautiful long locks.

'What the bloody hell happened?' asked Oliver, annoyed, but was stopped from hearing any kind of answer from Katie when Professor Trelawney of all people ambled down the corridor, smelling strongly of alcohol and wearing an even dreamier look than usual on her face.

She stopped when she spotted them, charred eyebrows and hair alike, their wands scattered away from them on the floor. Looking down at them curiously, she clucked her tongue.

'Been duelling have we, dears?'

'No!' they replied indignantly in unison.

'Well it certainly does look like it, you know,' she said, before twitching slightly, 'oh yes, it does indeed, and well, it is against the school rules, you know.'

Oliver sincerely wished she'd stop saying "you know", it was annoying the bloody hell out of him among other things, and he could hardly stand the batty woman on a normal day.

'I'm afraid, dears, that I have no other choice than to give you a detention,' she said, in what she clearly thought was a disapproving tone, 'Minerva says I've been too lax with my punishments, so I think this is the perfect opportunity to prove her wrong.'

'But we didn't do anything!' Katie cried angrily, getting awkwardly to her feet and then hiking a flabbergasted Oliver to his, 'We were just standing here talking and suddenly something exploded!'

'You truly expect me to believe that, do you?' Trelawney said with another annoying cluck of her tongue, 'There's no point lying to me, you know,' here Oliver's right eye twitched irritably, 'I do have the gift of Sight after all.'

'Obviously your "Inner Eye"'s not working then,' Katie mumbled miserably, earning herself a reproving glance from the batty woman.

'I'll show you whose Inner Eye's not working!' she said indignantly, taking Katie firmly by the elbow and dragging her down the corridor with her, leaving Oliver to jog along behind them, completely bewildered and more than a little annoyed.

By the time they'd reached the obscurely placed Divination classroom, Oliver was a little puffed out and Katie looked ready to murder something. They climbed the magically descending ladder and stood inside, waiting for Trelawney to exact their punishment upon them.

'Sit,' she said curtly, pointing at the two chairs closest to her desk, a crystal ball sitting mockingly on the wooden table.

Seeing no choice but to obey her, Katie and Oliver grudgingly sat down, sinking into the arm-chairs with a sullen silence. Trelawney pulled the trapdoor shut and walked over to them, sitting down in her own pouf with little grace herself.

'Well there you are, Miss Know-It-All,' she said scathingly, pushing the crystal ball towards Katie with a glare of her magnified eyes, 'tell me what you see.'

Katie gaped at her.  
'But I'm rubbish at this subject; I'm not even taking it this year!'

'Well then you should have more respect for something you yourself are not even adept at,' Trelawney replied smugly, causing Oliver to have to disguise a laugh with a well-timed sneeze.

Grinding her teeth together noisily, Katie threw a pleading glance at the Scotsman beside her, who helpfully, snorted and decided to study his shoelaces very intently. Taking several breaths in and out in an attempt to control her temper, she opened her eyes again and carefully ignoring Trelawney's bug-eyed stare, looked deep into the crystal ball.

Watching her, Oliver raised one charred eyebrow when she let out a soft yelp, her blue eyes transfixed on something he couldn't see. Leaning forwards curiously when he realised that she wasn't faking it, he gave an awkward cough when he saw _exactly_ what had made her yelp.

Leaning backwards in his chair faster than an Angelina mood-swing, he sucked in oxygen noisily, thinking that he could do with a nice, long, _cold_ shower right about then. He waited semi-patiently as Katie continue to stare at the somewhat _interesting_ images before her, taking an indecent amount of time to do so, in his own humble opinion.

'What do you see, _dear_?' asked Trelawney scathingly, leaning forwards to look at the crystal ball and frowning, 'Why, there's nothing there you silly girl! What on earth are you staring at?'

Choking, Oliver stared at the insane woman.  
'But there is something there, I saw it!'

It was Katie's turn to stare at him, as Trelawney snatched the crystal ball huffily away from her, muttering something about obnoxious students.

'There was nothing there, you dolt,' she mouthed to him, frowning as he turned a delicate shade of green, 'wait, did you _actually_ see something?'

The last part she'd spoken out loud, and Trelawney turned to eye him curiously.  
'Tell me Mister Wood, did you actually see something or are you just play-acting like your friend here?'

'I um, it was um, no, I didn't,' he stammered, closing his eyes for a brief minute and breathing in deeply again.

'Oh good gracious child, you've _seen!_' Trelawney cried excitedly, hastily picking the crystal ball up again and plonking it down in front of him, 'Quickly, quickly, tell me what you see!'

Cringing, Oliver hesitantly looked into the crystal ball, groaning with mortification as the images revolved around the ball again.

'I um, I see nothing, nothing at all… nothing of any interest to anyone, especially you, Katie.' He rambled quickly, tearing his gaze away from the crystal ball.

'Wait, can you see _me?_' Katie asked, amazed, leaning over to look into the ball, 'I can't see it, you have to tell me now if you can see me, what am I doing?'

'I think the right phrasing is "_who_ am I doing?"' Oliver muttered under his breath so that only she heard him.

'Oh!' she cried, embarrassed, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

'Well? What is it then, what do you see?' Trelawney said impatiently, 'I haven't got all day, you know.'

Oliver, embarrassed, annoyed and anxious to get away from her, lost his mind completely; after all, she'd said that blasted phrase again.

'If you really _must_ know,' he said sweetly with a smile that could have melted the most stony-hearted of women, 'I can see Katie and myself, on a bed, and well, no wait, we've moved from the bed to the wall, no wait, _anyway_ the point is, dear Professor, that I can see Katie and I on our honeymoon and we're not swimming in the hotel pool either.'

There was a shocked silence, in which both Katie and Trelawney gaped at him, and then Katie began to laugh. Hysterically.

Startled out of her embarrassed reverie by the racket Katie was making, Trelawney dithered for a minute, before losing her cool.

'Out! Out! Get out! How completely and totally inappropriate! Well, I never in _all_ my days -'

Oliver got to his feet, bowed to her with an obnoxious grin, waded his way through the tables and kicked open the trapdoor, at which he waited for a still-giggling Katie, helped her onto the ladder and then began to scale it himself, winking at Trelawney as he left.

When they'd both descended the ladder and righted their uniforms up, Katie turned to him, a grin plastered over her face. 'Oliver Tobias Wood, you are a _genius!_'

'No actually,' he replied quickly, 'apparently I'm a Seer.'

She began to laugh and then stopped short; looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite place. 'Are you serious?'

'Never been more,' he said, winking at her and heading off down the corridor, his grin widening as the sound of her footsteps clattered on the stone floor behind him.

'Oliver Wood, you _are _a bloody genius,' he murmured to himself as she caught up to him, pestering him with questions about their apparent impending marriage.

'So, so we're going to get married are we?' she said after a few minutes of stream-of -consciousness question-asking.

'Yep.'

'Well, in that case, to make sure you're the right one and all, d'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next visit?'

'Thought you'd never ask.'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden._


	9. Parvati x Seamus

**IX  
Sweet Surrender**

**-x- Parvati Patil & Seamus Finnigan –x-**

'_Make no sudden movements  
and no one will get hurt  
you're making me nervous…  
if love is surrender,  
then whose war is it anyway?'  
_

'Aw, Won-Won, you are so cute.'

Rolling her dark eyes with a simultaneous groan of disgust, Parvati Patil stood up from the arm-chair she'd been lounging in until Lavender and Ron Weasley had entered the room. Their entrance had immediately been a trigger for everyone in the near vicinity of them to get up and move away as quickly as possible, their public displays of affection too much for even the most strong-stomached hopeless romantic.

Even Parvati, Lavender's best-friend, was having a large amount of trouble dealing with the amount of snogging – if that's what it could be defined as – they were doing, especially in public. Besides it's indecency it was just plain embarrassing, and so, Parvati had been spending less and less time with her best-friend and more time either by herself or in the company of people she wouldn't normally sit with, namely Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Though, precisely where either of them was, and in her time of need too, she had not a clue.

That said, she didn't exactly mind not knowing where Seamus was, on the account of him having a bit of a God-complex and a lot of an ego. Sure, with his mischievous smile and keen green eyes he had a right to be proud of himself, but thinking himself as some kind of Irish God or golden boy was going a bit far. Normally, she didn't mind boys with a healthy bit of arrogance; it usually meant that they were willing to show her off as well, but Finnigan? Well, he took it a bit too far.

'Hallo there lovely.'

Turning, she half-smiled, half-groaned as none other than the delusional Irish God himself walked up and plonked himself down beside her, casting an amused glance over her barely started Transfiguration essay.

'Not done yet?' he asked, smirking when she scowled at him.

'No, and I was just about to put my head down and work when you – oh bloody hell, I've run out of ink.'

Throwing her quill down irritably, she began to grind her teeth in frustration, glaring at the mostly blank piece of parchment with what Seamus felt was an indecent amount of anger. There was slight pause, in which he watched her curiously, before he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand and transfigured the pot-plant next to him into a large bottle of ink.

'Need some o' this?' he enquired with a mischievous wink.

Parvati, who had missed this entire sequence of events completely due to having started to rummage through her bag for another bottle of ink, looked up to see a bottle of ink in his outstretched hand, a smug smile on his face.

'Uh, thanks,' she said, reaching out to take it from him and frowning as his smile changed quickly back into a smirk.

'I didn't actually mean the ink of course,' he continued as he loosened his tie a bit, grinning at her, 'when I said "some o' this" I meant some o' the Almighty Seamus.'

'Settle down there "Almighty Seamus",' said a voice from behind them, and they looked up to see Dean standing over them, an amused glint in his dark eyes, 'don't want to wear yourself out too quickly or you won't be up to par with the other few ladies you've got lined up, will you?'

'Won't ever be a problem Deano,' Seamus drawled, lying back onto the floor in a languid fashion, his eyelids fluttering closed as he did so, 'I am _invincible_.'

'Oh, get over yourself already!' Parvati cried, annoyed at having being caught in such a bad mood by both boys, 'You've got such a God complex!'

'Well its obvious why,' said Dean with a roll of his eyes as he sat down on her other side, 'he thinks he _is_ one, cue the "Almighty Seamus" talk and all that.'

'Ah, but are yeh disputing it?' said Seamus, eyes still closed, his ringed finger tracing an eyebrow in a subconscious habit, 'No, I didn't think so, because like I said, I am inv-'

'You're delusional, you know that?' interrupted Parvati, setting her quill down and looking at him sprawled out beside her with the faintest expression of distaste, 'you think you're so good when in reality you're about as secure as… as… as Lavender.'

'Ooh, harsh,' remarked Dean, cringing.

'S'alright Deano,' Seamus said smoothly, apparently un-phased by the insult, 'she's just upset coz she ain't on my list of women to see.'

'Why would I _want_ to be on it?' she retorted, quite annoyed now, 'I'm not a whore.'

His eyes flicked open.  
'Are yeh calling me some kind of whoremonger?'

'And what if I am?' she challenged, her face flushed.

'I um, I'm just going to go and um, uh, talk to um, Ginny,' Dean said suddenly, leaping to his feet, smiling briefly and then hurrying away.

'What if I were to prove to yeh that I can get any kind of girl?' he said, sitting up and looking at her with a hard stare, 'what if I could prove to yeh that I could get any girl, even a girl like _you_?'

'Then I would take it back,' she replied fairly, before laughing scathingly, 'though I _highly_ doubt you'll get a girl like me.'

'And who's got a God-complex now, eh?' he said with a hollow laugh, astounded by her nerve.

'You've got a deal,' she said primly, holding out a slender dark hand for him to shake.

Taking it, he shook it but didn't let go.

Fixing him with a stare, she tugged at it but his grip was too strong.  
'Finnigan let go.'

'Ah, so I'm "Finnigan" now we're in a bet, am I?' he said with one raised eyebrow.

'I'm warning you,' she said through her teeth, 'stop it! Let go!'

'Fine,' he said, yanking her forward by the arm and then letting her go so fast that she barely had time to blink.

Disorientated, she was about to yell at him but had no time, because suddenly his lips were on hers. Scowling, she started to pull away, but he deepened the kiss, and all of a sudden she didn't want to pull away. Delusional, annoying and cocky as he may have been, there was one thing she could say in his defence: he was one hell of a kisser.

He held her there for a few minutes before slowly pulling away.

Opening her eyes, she cringed, waiting for the trademark cocky smirk to slide onto his face, but it didn't. Instead, a genuine smile was present on his flushed face, a look in his keen green eyes she'd had yet to see before.

'What? Was I that bad a kisser?' she said impulsively, panicking.

'No,' he replied with a croak in his voice, 'yeh're pretty damn amazing actually.'

Blushing, she smiled with pleasure before remembering one very important detail… their bet.

'You cheater!' she cried, flushing scarlet now, not only with embarrassment but anger at having been played, 'you sweet-talking, two-faced, delusional – '

Silenced by another well-timed kiss on his part, she stared at him through open eyes and pulled away. 'That's not fair; you can't keep doing th- '

But apparently he could.

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Sweet Surrender" by Sarah McLachlan._

_I've always wondered what Parvati and Seamus would be doing while Lavender was snogging Ron, and Dean was off with Ginny... hahaha._


	10. Penelope x Percy

**X  
****Lighten Up, Weasley.**

**-x- Percy Weasley & Penelope Clearwater –x-**

'_She took his hand  
And dragged him in a tunnel  
He never liked kissing till tonight  
He used his best lines  
Got rejected 20 times  
Until he found the one he was waiting for…'_

'Urgh, piss off you loser!'

His head reeling from the almighty slap he'd just received, Percy Weasley staggered backwards away from the girl he'd attempted to chat up. Stumbling into the drinks table, he coughed embarrassedly and straightened himself up, fixing his glasses so that they weren't sitting at a forty-five degree angle on his thin face. He grimaced painfully as he watched his attacker – a pretty sixth-year – move away, whispering with three of her friends, all four of them sending glares and disgusted looks in his direction.

Surely he was just caught in a bad rut; those pick-up lines that Bill and Charlie sent him were pretty clever, at least in his own humble, hopelessly inexperienced opinion. Moving his jaw around tenderly as the stinging in his cheek began to ebb away; he turned, took a butterbeer from the table behind him and gulped at it, wishing, for the first time in his life, that they were made of stronger stuff.

'Pick-up lines not going so well, Perce?'

Choking on his drink, Percy turned to see Oliver Wood standing beside him, reaching out to get himself a butterbeer of his own.

'Uh, well, not quite as well as I'd hoped,' Percy replied stiffly, surveying the room for another target.

'You know, I don't exactly blame the last one,' Oliver continued, grinning at his hopeless friend, 'I mean, "you must be Jamaican, cause baby Jamaican me crazy" is not exactly a masterpiece of a line.'

'Oh yeah?' Percy retorted, embarrassed as he realised the incredible stupidity of the line, 'and how many girls have you picked up tonight?'

'Just the one,' Oliver answered with a shrug, gesturing in the direction of Katie Bell, who smiled at him briefly before going back to chatting animatedly with her fellow chasers Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

'Yes, well,' said Percy distractedly, having spotted a shy but very pretty girl in the corner of the room, talking quietly to his brother George, 'excuse me, Wood.'

Leaving a laughing Oliver behind him, Percy ruffled his hair up a bit and walked over to the corner where George had just very conveniently left the pretty girl by herself, sipping a pumpkin juice with an owlish look over her goblet.

'H-hello there,' he said in greeting, shuffling his left foot nervously.

'Um, hi,' she said, raising an eyebrow as she took in his profusely sweating brow and twitchy left foot, 'can I help you with something?'

'C-can I take your picture?' he blurted out, breathing in and out deeply in a slightly alarming manner.

'Uh, um, why exactly?' she asked, looking quite frightened by him and confused by his apparent lack of photographic equipment.

'Because… because I well, I,' he paused, breathed in and out and then flashed an attempt at a cocky smile at her, 'because I want Father Christmas to know exactly what I want this December.'

There was an awkward silence, in which he continued to grin manically at her and she stared at him with disbelief, before she began to laugh.

'You know, you could ask my name before you start using horrible pick-up lines on me,' she said through her giggles, 'my name's Leanne and no, you aren't going to get anywhere with me.'

Stammering, his grin sliding off his face, Percy watched helplessly as she quickly moved away, crying she was laughing so hard, and fell into the small circle that Oliver, Katie and the others were in. He looked on with mortification as she told them all what had happened and felt his cheeks glow an almighty scarlet when Oliver threw him a look that clearly showed that he thought him some kind of idiot, which, he realised now, he was. Obviously, Charlie and Bill had collaborated on this, had played a prank on him to make him look like a complete and total prat, and it looked as if they'd succeeded.

Forlorn, embarrassed and feeling down on himself, Percy flopped down in the nearest lounge, accidentally seating himself in the lap of a fourth-year girl, who screeched as soon as she realised it was him, telling him – as loudly as possible – that his stupid pick-up lines weren't going to work on her and that if he was aiming as low as girls three years younger than him then he was more of an idiot than she'd thought. Her words were reinforced a few seconds later by her burly fifth-year boyfriend, Cormac McLaggen, who grabbed Percy by the collar of his sweater and forcibly lifted him off his girlfriend's lap, marched him over to the portrait hole and dropped him out of it, letting him fall in a squirming heap on the stone floor.

As he lay sprawled out on the cold marble, Percy gave a huge sigh, blinking blearily through his once again mutilated glasses. Rolling over on to his back, he spread himself out and stared at the ceiling, eventually drifting off into a shallow sleep from pure boredom and dejection.

He was only left in peaceful misery for half an hour though, when a small nudge in his ribs startled him and he sat up, blinking blearily, his spine twinging from the cold floor. Straightening up his glasses somewhat, he peered through the smeared lenses to see a distinctly female face looking down at him, her expression torn between annoyance and amusement.

'What're you doing out here Weasley?'

He recognised her clear, musical voice… it was Penelope Clearwater, a prefect from Ravenclaw.

His ears glowing with a heat they'd rarely known, he got to his feet uneasily, pulling his wand out of the pocket of his jeans and tapping the frame of his spectacles so that they repaired themselves and he could see properly at last.

'Erm, hello Miss Clearwater.'

She laughed, rolling her blue eyes in the process.  
'Always so stiff and proper, aren't you Weasley?'

'I, well, its – yes,' heaving the sigh of a person who'd been through trials and tribulations unheard of, he faced her with a shameful expression.

'Heard you had a bit of bad luck at the party,' she said conversationally, smiling when his face flushed an even brighter red, 'everyone's talking about it, that Patil girl in your house told her twin in mine, so now two houses at least know what you've been up to Mr. Head Boy.'

'Oh Merlin,' he breathed, sliding down the wall beside the Fat Lady's portrait, 'I'll be the laughing-stock of the school.'

'It's not that bad,' she said, before catching the look on his face, 'well _yes_ it is, but it could be worse.'

'Really?' he said, a note of hysteria in his voice now, 'and how is that?'

'You could have ended the night without even a _single_ date,' she replied, sitting down gracefully, so that she was cross-legged beside him.

'But that's the thing of it,' he said, a tortured expression on his face, 'I _did_ end the night without a single date.'

'The night's not over yet,' she reasoned, punching him lightly on the arm, 'you never know what might happen.'

'I can't even go back inside now; they've locked me out,' he whined.

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before doing something that took him by complete and utter surprise… she leant over and kissed him.

Shocked, he let her kiss him for a moment before pulling away, spluttering indignantly. 'You – I – we can't! I'm Head Boy and you're a Prefect and we – '

'Oh lighten up Weasley,' she said with a wicked grin, before reaching over, taking his jaw in her hand and then pulling him towards her so that she could kiss him again.

Deciding that perhaps he'd best take her advice if he wanted her to keep on kissing him, Percy closed his eyes and gave in, and soon he was so totally engrossed with the feeling of her lips and delicate hands as they snaked their way around his neck, that he didn't even notice Fred and George stick their heads out of the portrait hole, gaping when they saw him.

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Kiss Chasing" by The Chalets._


	11. Angelina x Fred

**XI  
****To Win An Independent Heart.**

**-x- Angelina Johnson & Fred Weasley –x-**

'_I'm not the sort of person who  
__falls in and quickly out of love,  
but to you, I give my affection  
__right from the start…'  
_

It was a widely known fact that Angelina Johnson – Charms major and Gryffindor Chaser extraordinaire – was not the kind of girl to fall in love. Sensible, strong-willed and fiercely independent, she was definitely single and proud of it.

It wasn't that she was unattractive: with long ebony hair, large brown eyes, and a mix of African-American and English blood, she was definitely attractive; but with her haughty, powerful stride and confident, high-held head, she was slightly intimidating. Most of the Hogwarts boys knew better than to make advances on her: many of them had suffered first hand, the wrath of her sharp words and quick wit, but there was an exception… an exception by the name of Fredrick Arnold Weasley.

Cheerful, easy going and more often than not incurably lazy; tall and gangly Fred was her exact opposite, from the wide smile that constantly shone on his face, to his snow-white complexion, and yet, there was some undeniable chemistry that sparked between them. An undeniable chemistry that both were quick to deny.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Smack!**

Rather viciously hit in the back of the head by a large roll of parchment, Angelina winced and cursing under her breath turned around with the full intent of throttling the culprit, who she knew would be none other than Fred Weasley.

'What do you want, you prat?' she hissed under her breath at the red-headed, beanpole of a boy who was in silent hysterics, rolling around in his seat.

'Needed – hahaha- to –hahaha- ask you –hahaha- something!' he gasped through tears of mirth.

'No need to nearly concuss me!' she exclaimed as quietly as possible over the monotonous drone of Professor Binns.

'Sorry, that was George's fault,' he whispered in return, smirking as George wrenched his gaze away from Alicia and opened his mouth furiously in indignation.

'Hmmm… right.' she muttered, rolling her eyes, long, dark braids whipping around her face, 'what seems to be the problem?'

'Well I - ' he started, but was ruthlessly cut off by the scrape of chairs and instant rise of chatter that signalled the end of class.

'What? I didn't hear you.' Angelina called over top of George's head, craning her neck to try to see him.

'I um,' he looked annoyed, 'I uh, nothing … I'll talk to you later about it.'

Frowning, Angelina watched him quickly hurry out of the classroom. It was so out of character for Fred to be hesitant to say anything, usually one couldn't shut him up.

'What did Fred want?' asked Alicia as they both walked out of the classroom and headed towards the Common Room.

'I don't know, he didn't actually get around to saying it,' Angelina replied with a shrug.

'That's strange,' Alicia mused with a thoughtful expression, 'he doesn't usually let anything stop him when he wants to say something.'

Angelina shrugged.  
'When he wants to tell me, he will.'

Nodding in agreement, Alicia smiled briefly before sighing wistfully.  
'How great would it be if you and Fred and George and I went to the Yule Ball together? It would be so perfect…'

Shrugging again, Angelina continued her brisk walk to the Common Room.  
'I suppose so. What colour dress-robes are you wearing?'

This sparked a lively conversation that carried them through the entire trek back to the Gryffindor tower and continued even as they sank tiredly into arm-chairs by the fire.

While this conversation took place, Fred, along with George, was taking in part in one of his favourite past-times: tormenting his younger brother. Having come downstairs to borrow their younger sibling's psychotic owl, they had discovered that he'd somehow managed to set his own eyebrows alight.

'Nice look, Ron… go well with your dress robes, that will,' remarked George with a smirk as they seated themselves down amongst their brother and his friends, 'Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?'

'No, he's off delivering a letter,' said Ron amidst his tender examination of his singed ginger eyebrows, 'why?'

'Because George wants to invite him to the ball,' Fred replied scathingly, rolling his eyes.

'Because _we_ want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,' said George, sighing.

'Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?' asked Ron, looking thoroughly annoyed.

'Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too,' said Fred, waving his wand threateningly, before spotting Angelina in the corner, 'So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?'

'Nope,' said Ron, scowling.

'Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,' Fred said, eyes still on Angelina.

'Who're you going with then?' Ron enquired indignantly, exchanging glances with Harry, who'd been watching their conversation with a mild brand of interest.

'Angelina,' he said quickly, turning his gaze back on them.

'What?' Ron yelped, taken aback, 'You've already asked her?'

'Good point,' Fred remarked, straightening up his posture, he grinned before bellowing across the room, 'Oi! Angelina!'

She turned, her dark braids whipping about her face as she did.  
'What?'

'Want to come to the ball with me?' he called, his grin wavering slightly.

She studied him for a minute before answering, throwing a scowl at Alicia who'd begun to giggle hysterically. 'All right then.'

Fred watched her until she and Alicia finally started chatting again, a smile on her face that hadn't been there before, and then smirked as he turned back to Harry and Ron. 'There you go, piece of cake.'

Raising an eyebrow, Angelina laughed when she heard him say this to the two younger boys. 'Oh, so he doesn't tell them how it's his second attempt or anything.'

'Of course not,' replied Alicia, still grinning, 'he's a boy, they don't like admitting they're rubbish at something.'

'I wouldn't call that rubbish, though,' Angelina commented, glancing back at Fred for a second and studying his mischievous face with a smile, 'I'd call that brazen, actually, and I quite like that in a boy.'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "The Weakness In Me" by Joan Armatrading.  
Excerpt also used from "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" by JK Rowling -- no copyright infringement intended!!_

_can you believe that i'm not allowed a copy of HP7 til my assignments are done??  
i'm about to cry, seriously, people. lol. _

_x_


	12. Hermione x Ron

**XII  
****The Ten-Galleon Confession**

**-x- Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley –x-**

'_I don't quite know  
How to say  
How I feel…  
Those three words  
Are said too much  
They're not enough.'_

Ron Weasley wasn't what you would call a coward, per se, just a little bit frightened by a few specific things, such as spiders, dark forests, being shown up and confessions of the heart. Unfortunately for him though, with the impending arrival of none other than Viktor Krum looming, he was destined to have to face the last two fears on his relatively short list.

Krum, having responded in the affirmative to an invitation from one Miss Hermione Granger, was due to visit in two days time on a short holiday from Bulgaria, and Ron was, to put it simply, unbelievably pissed off about it. Not only was the great accented prat staying in his family home, much to the joy of his other siblings, oh no, he was also going to find some way to show up Ron in front of Hermione, he just knew it.

It was no great secret that the talented flyer had more than a bit of a crush on the bookish seventeen year-old, but then again, it was more than obvious that the jealous redhead did too, and this presented a bit of a problem… a problem that one Harry Potter had hatched a plan to fix.

It was no great, elaborate plan really; just a simple bet that would safely see Ron share his true feelings for Hermione. In doing this he would eliminate his fear of having Hermione taken away from him and give himself a confidence boost so that he would not be so easily shown up by Krum.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

'Pretty exciting isn't it, having a Bulgarian superstar staying in our house,' remarked Ginny as she, Harry, Hermione and Ron lay sprawled about on various surfaces of her somewhat cramped bedroom.

'Nrgh,' Ron grunted sourly, as Hermione and Ginny exchanged fed-up glances.

'I don't see what your problem is,' said Harry quietly, trying hard to suppress a grin as his plan started to play out; 'he's a nice enough bloke.'

'He's a world-famous, puffed-up, arrogant bludger-head,' spat Ron venomously at the carpet he was lying unorthodoxly on, 'that's what my problem is.'

'Do I detect a hint of jealousy?' said Ginny in a sing-song voice, smiling at Harry, who was battling laughter.

'No,' replied Hermione stiffly, 'you detect a hint of pigheadedness. Honestly Ronald, you're being dreadfully immature about this, Viktor is so looking forward to meeting everyone, why, in his last letter he -'

'I don't bloody care what _Vicky_ said in his last bloody love letter,' interrupted Ron sulkily, 'I just wish he'd keep his great fat head in Bulgaria where it belongs.'

Sighing, Hermione got to her feet.  
'I'm going to go and see what the twins are up to, want to join me Ginny?'

Ginny rolled her eyes before leaning over and smacking her brother up the side of his head.  
'Stop being a stupid prat, Ron.'

When the girls had left, Harry, who'd been lying on the sofa with Ginny, stretched out his legs with a loud yawn.  
'You have to tell her how you feel mate.'

'Tell who how I feel about what?' Ron asked in a muffled manner, still annoyed.

'Hermione… you have to tell _Hermione_ how you fell in love with her all the way back in first year and have felt that way ever since.' Harry replied, grinning at the ceiling.

'What?' Ron yelped, his voice squeaky and shrill, 'I haven't liked her since first year!'

'But you _do_ like her, don't you?'

'Well, yes…'

'So why not just tell her?'

Ron sat up, clutching the pillow he'd been fiddling with.  
'Well… well, it's not that simple Harry.'

'Yes it is,' Harry said, 'I did it with Ginny didn't I? How will it be so different between you and Hermione?'

'You didn't tell her, you bloody snogged her! In front of _everybody_ I might add,' the expression on Ron's face was decidedly indignant as he said this, and Harry laughed good-naturedly.

'So? Nobody's around here to see you, are they? If anything, it'll be easier for you.'

'Yeah, but you're _you_! Harry Potter! Any girl'd be bloody mad not to go out with you!'

Harry rolled his eyes, sighing tiredly.  
'All right, that's it…I bet you ten galleons you can't tell her.'

'Well of course I can't bloody tell her, that's a stupid bet!' Ron replied, throwing his hands up in the air, 'besides, I don't _have_ ten galleons to give you.'

'You'll have to tell her then, won't you?' said Harry, grinning mischievously as he got to his feet, 'I'm off to see Ginny, talk to you later.'

Cursing, Ron sat in the middle of the room for a moment before getting up, lobbing the pillow forcefully at his sister's bed, where it flopped dejectedly on top of the simple purple quilt.

'You aren't still moping about Viktor, are you?' asked a voice from behind him and he turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway.

'N-no,' he stammered quite truthfully, his ears beginning to glow a marvellous scarlet.

'What's the problem then?' she said, walking in and sitting down primly on the bed, looking up with that mildly concerned look she always seemed to have around him.

'Harry's… Harry's bet me to do something, but I can't, see, so I owe him ten galleons…' he said awkwardly, staring down at his feet.

'Ten galleons?' she echoed, 'that's an awful lot of money, doesn't he realise that you – oh, never mind.'

A heavy silence hung in the air between them… they both knew what she'd been about to say, she'd been about to say _doesn't he realise that you can't afford it?_

Hermione held a hand over her mouth, horrified, as she watched the colour drain from his face. It was unusual for him not to yell at her about something like this, and it unnerved her more than if he'd actually yelled at her.

'Oh Ron, I didn't mean it… you know what I meant,' she hoarsely, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

'I know,' he croaked, coughing to clear his throat and turning away.

'What is it he's bet you to do?' she asked hesitantly.

'Tell… tell you…' he was sweating now, his ears a flaming red and his face a sickly white colour, '…tell you s-something.'

She raised a graceful eyebrow.  
'Tell me what?'

He turned to face her, stricken with panic.

'To tell you that I love you! But I can't! You believe me don't you, that I couldn't ever do something like that? _You_ know that I'm a gutless coward and that I can't afford ten bloody galleons! I mean, Merlin above, how good a best mate is _he_ betting me ten galleons on something like that? Blimey!'

'Are you finished?' she asked after he'd finished babbling.

'Erm, yes, I suppose I am,' he said, breathing heavily.

She smiled.  
'Then I suppose you'd better go and claim your ten galleons then.'

He stared at her, confused for a minute, before realising what she was talking about. If it was possible, his face became even more pallid for a minute, before his face suddenly split into a huge, goofy grin. 'Blimey, I did it!'

'Yes, yes you did,' she said, laughing merrily.

He grinned at her for a few more seconds before coming to his senses and rushing out of the bedroom, clumping down the rickety staircase as he went, bellowing out for Harry as he went.

Shocked at the fact he'd just run out after confessing his undying love for her, Hermione sat dejectedly on the bed, feeling decidedly cheated. Wasn't that type of confession supposed to be accompanied by at least a hug? All she'd gotten was a stupid grin and an earful of babble. Not in the least romantic.

But as she stood up, ready to make her way downstairs, she smiled. Who was she to complain? That was just Ron, he wasn't smooth-talking Roger Davies or the endlessly charming late Cedric Diggory… he didn't have a romantic bone in his body. And yet, she loved him anyway, just for being him.

She was at the bottom of the staircase by the time she'd finished thinking this, and she was startled suddenly by none other than Ron himself, who'd come skidding out of the kitchen, ten fat gold galleons in his hands.

'Look 'Mione!' he cried, jubilant.

'Congratulations Ron,' she said softly, smiling gently.

'Thanks,' he said, taking one last loving look at them before stuffing them into his pocket, 'you know what I'm going to do with them?'

'What?' she said, glancing down at the hand he'd just held out to her before taking it in her smaller one.

'Take you out to dinner, if you'll let me,' he replied, the silly grin on his face softening into a smile of pure joy.

So maybe he had a romantic bone or two in him after all…

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol._

_so. can i just take a moment to say OHMYGOD about the new book? i'm going to go ahead and admit that i read it in one sitting until the early hours of the morning and enjoyed it a lot. it was a good book. but argh! she killed off so many good characters! i was sobbing by the end of it. honestly. -shakes head-_

_so yeah, if you've read it let me know so we can rant about it together.. because a lot of people haven't finished it yet.  
Ash x_


	13. Tonks x Lupin

**XIII  
To Feel Alive Again**

**-x- Remus Lupin & Nymphadora Tonks –x-**

'_And sweet,  
Sweet surrender  
is all that I have to give  
you take me in  
No questions asked  
you strip away the ugliness  
that surrounds me…  
sweet surrender.'_

It wasn't often that Remus Lupin found himself in the company of someone who was completely and totally bursting with confidence and unadulterated cheeriness. In fact, he was hard-pressed to remember another time when he had. And yet, here he was sitting in a very important Order meeting, grinning like a sixteen year-old schoolboy as the fuchsia-haired woman across the table from him scrunched up her nose, making it change with every word that Snape said as he gave his weekly report.

Nymphadora Tonks.

With a name like that, he supposed, she really had no choice but to be a handful, because her name was a mouthful all right. But name jibes aside, she really was the most unusual but fascinating woman he'd ever met, the most intriguing aspect of her character being that she didn't seem in the least bit intimidated by his werewolf issues. In actual fact, she was quite interested in them and frequently asked him questions about it in such a straightforward, unabashed manner that he found it hard to be annoyed by them.

The only other woman who had been nearly so brazen about her apparent indifference of his condition had been Lily Evans, and well, he hadn't really been able to spend time with her in recent years, so Tonks was a refreshing change. More than a refreshing change really, he thought to himself as she wriggled her nose again, she was quite a lot more than that to him.

'Will you desist?' cried Snape suddenly, startling him out of his reverie, and Remus grinned as Tonks quickly swapped an uncanny resemblance of Snape's own nose back to her own slightly upturned one with an embarrassed smile.

Remus could feel someone silently shaking with laughter behind him and he turned to see Bill hysterically laughing, apparently having silenced himself in a bid to keep from being noticed. Finding this rather humorous as well, Remus had to fake a violent coughing fit to mask his own chuckles and as he drew in breath, he realised that this had sparked a giggling fit in Tonks herself, who stood and excused herself, flashing a mischievous glance at a fuming Snape on her way out.

'Are you quite in _control_ of yourself too Lupin or do you need to follow your lover out?' sneered Snape, seething at having been so disrespected.

A few people gasped as he said this, it had been obvious that undertones of Remus' werewolf condition had been meant to be heard in the sneered sentence, but Remus was past the point of caring. Snape had never grown up. In all the years since their time at Hogwarts, Snape had never grown up.

'I'm quite fine thank you Severus,' Remus said evenly, with a companionable smile, 'but if you'd rather I left I won't argue.'

Snape looked taken aback but said nothing, instead opting to continue on with his report as if nothing had happened.

Ten minutes passed and then the meeting was adjourned leaving Remus with the opportunity to go and find his mischievous friend, who was no doubt off with Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger somewhere, giggling with them like she wasn't six years their elder.

Sure enough, he found her in the bedroom the two younger girls shared, re-enacting the look on Snape's face when he'd realised she was mocking him. Ginny and Hermione were rolling around with laughter, clutching their stomaches and as he walked into the doorway, he felt his face split into its own smile. Amazing, the effect she had on him; he instantly felt happier in her presence.

'Remus!' she cried joyfully as he entered, the smile and her tone of voice completely unsuited to the greasy, hooked nose she had transformed her own pixie-like one into.

'Nice look,' he commented, leaning against the doorway with an amused expression.

'Oh!' she squeaked, quickly wriggling her nose so that it swapped back to its proper appearance, 'Was Snape really angry?'

'Oh, not really,' Remus said with a shrug, smiling, 'made a couple of cracks at me, nothing too drastic.'

She looked stricken.  
'Oh Remus, I'm really sorry.'

'There's nothing to be sorry about,' he replied, walking into the room so that he was standing next to the bed she was kneeling on.

'We uh, we're just going to go and um, find um, Harry,' Ginny said awkwardly, and Remus started, forgetting that she and Hermione had been in the room.

'I'll tell you the rest later girls,' Tonks called as they hurried out, smiling softly as she turned back to him, 'So, do I get to make it up to you?'

'I just said there's nothing to be sorry about,' he said patiently, sitting down on the other bed so that they were facing one another.

She pouted.  
'But I wanted to make it up to you… why don't you just play along for once?'

He sighed, leaning forwards so that his forearms were resting on his thighs.  
'All right, all right, what are you going to do?'

She grinned, joyful that he was going to play along.  
'Okay, you stay right here, close your eyes, I'll be right back.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her.  
'Close my eyes?'

'Yes!' she said forcefully, leaping up off the bed, taking his two large hands in hers and placing them over his grey eyes, 'and no peaking!'

Laughing, he turned to where he could place her voice.  
'Tonks, what are you doing?'

She didn't answer, she was already gone, the sound of her footsteps moving further and further away before there was a loud crashing sound and a squeal. Getting to his feet, Remus stuck his head around the doorframe to see her sprawled on the ground, laughing embarrassedly.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Yes, yes,' she sighed, getting to her feet and dusting her backside off, 'just my usual clumsiness – go back inside and close your eyes, I'll be right back.'

Rolling his eyes, he followed her orders, sitting back down on the bed and closing his eyes. It was a few more moments before he heard the shuffle of her footsteps as she came back, slightly slower this time as if she was trying to be careful not to stumble over again.

'Can I open my eyes yet?' he enquired, making to open his eyes.

'No!' she cried, sounding oddly panicky.

Frowning, he sat still, listening intently as she shuffled around in front of him for a second before getting down onto her knees in front of him.

'What're you doing?'

'Shhh.' she said patronisingly.

Nervous now, he was about to open his eyes when he felt her fingertips gently grazing his face, shaking slightly. Startled, he opened one eye, but she quickly hissed at him to close it.

'Please don't,' she said quietly, 'don't spoil it.'

He kept his eyes shut reluctantly as she continued to gently trace his face, her gentle fingertips lightly trailing across the scars on his face, the lines in his forehead, his eyebrows and eyelids… it was an amazing feeling, her warm touch on his perpetually cool face… and suddenly, her fingertips left his face and he almost groaned to have them back, so lovely did it feel.

But then they were replaced by a soft pair of lips that gently pressed themselves to his trembling ones, gently moving, sending goosebumps down his spine and making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

Now, he discovered, he didn't want to open his eyes, in case this wonderful, tender healing vanished… it was so exquisitely healing, as if all the ugliness and fear and anger was melted away, being stripped from him but in a way that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his life. It was invigorating.

And it was all her… Nymphadora Tonks.

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Sweet Surrender" by Sarah McLachlan_

_Deadly Hallows SPOILERS BELOW -->_

_x  
x  
x  
x  
x_

_ironic, really, the title of this story? in fact, the story on a whole.. i wrote about a week and a half ago, so of course it isnt DH compliant.. but really, eerie how this turned out.. RIP Remus & Tonks... and Fred._


	14. Hannah x Ernie

**XIV  
****Shut Up, Kiss Me.**

**-x- Ernie McMillan & Hannah Abbott –x-**

'_I want to take you far  
From the cynics in this town  
And kiss you on the mouth  
We'll cut our bodies free  
From the tethers of this scene  
Start a brand new colony  
Where everything will change.'_

As she sat miserably alone by the smouldering Common Room fire, twisting bits of parchment into semi-interesting shapes before flicking them into the dying flames, Hannah let loose an almighty sigh, shivering slightly in the bitter cold that was closing in around her. Not bothering to even pull her wand out to restart the fire, she hung her head, letting her limply curling blonde hair fall over her face, hiding her wet eyes from view.

She was just getting herself worked up for a good cry when someone plonked themselves down beside her to her right, draping a blanket around her shoulders. Looking up through her long blonde tendrils, she saw a concerned looking Ernie McMillan watching her intently, waiting for the right moment to speak.

'What do you want?' she asked abruptly, turning away from him and wiping her eyes embarrassedly.

A little taken aback, he dithered for a moment; words of comfort weren't his strong point, but he could tell she so desperately needed some kind of reassurance…

'I just… I just wanted to make sure you were all right,' he said quietly with an abrupt little cough, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

'I just got dumped by my boyfriend Ernie, but I'm fine. Really,' she said roughly, in a tone that was hard to decipher.

Cringing, Ernie made to speak, but the words flew right out of his head and he was left with a stupid sounding 'Oh?'

Sighing, she turned away again, really not up to coping with Ernie and his pompous but awkward ways. He noticed this and felt his stomach wrench a little. It was pathetic, he was a Prefect and most likely in line for Head Boy next year and yet he couldn't even find some simple words to comfort his best-friend.

'H-Hannah… I'm sorry,' he said trying again, stammering slightly, and apologising not only for her having been ditched by Justin Finch-Fletchley, but also for his lack of decent comforting skills.

Smiling wryly, she took the blanket and with shaking fingers, wrapped half of it around his shoulders so that they were sharing it – a silent gesture of thanks. They sat like that for what felt like ages, ages in which he seemed to be fighting some sort of urge he couldn't quite place… it was strong, that much he knew, and it seemed to have something to do with the girl he now had his arm around, but exactly what it was, he couldn't quite tell.

Quite frankly, it was unnerving.

Ernie was the sort of person that liked to have everything just-so and in order; liked to have everything make sense and seem logical… and whatever this urge was, it was definitely not making sense and didn't seem to be following the rules of even the simplest of logic.

'He… he said he thought we'd be better off as friends,' Hannah whispered hoarsely after a while with a hearty sniff, 'he said that he didn't think he liked me as anything more than a friend, that he never really had…'

Ernie frowned.  
'He really said that?'

'Mmhmm,' she mumbled tearfully, before beginning to sob loudly into his shoulder, her long fingers gripping his robes so tightly that her slender knuckles turned white.

Aghast, unsure and feeling rather like an idiot, he looked down at her head of soft blonde waves, wishing like he had so many times before, that he wasn't such a complete novice when it came to girls. Instinct seemed to tell him to let her cry it out on his shoulder, however, so he merely sat there, his arm still around her awkwardly as she howled miserably.

'I-I.. what k-kind of b-boy s-says th-that kind of th-thing to a g-g-girl he's b-been with fo-for a y-year?' she sobbed in a somewhat muffled fashion into his shoulder.

'Hannah, he's just a pathetic excuse for a man, honestly, you're better off without him,' Ernie replied without thinking, starting with surprise when he'd finished letting his mouth run away with him.

'B-but what if-if it's _me?_' she wailed, pulling away from him and facing him with a blotchy, tear-stained face, her blue eyes swollen and puffy, 'W-what if I'm ju-just too ugly or s-something?'

'Ugly?' he cried, astounded, 'why on earth would you think that? You're beautiful!'

Again, Ernie had let his mouth run away with him… it was starting to become a real problem. Or so he thought…

'Y-you really th-think so?' she hiccoughed, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her robes and blushing slightly.

'Erm, yes, yes I do,' he said with a small smile, and encouraged to see that she seemed to be slightly more cheerful, he decided to just say whatever came to his head, 'look, Finch-Fletchley's an idiot if he doesn't realise how wonderful you are, honestly Hannah, its his loss, I promise you. Why, if _I_ was dating you I wouldn't want to let you go.'

So maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all…

Hannah stared at him, her jaw dropped and cheeks decidedly red.  
'Ernie, I… I don't know what to say.'

'Nothing,' he replied firmly, finally managing to get a grip on himself, 'no, best to say nothing at all, do excuse me by the way, I don't know _what_ came over me.'

Horrified, he immediately wished he hadn't said _that_ either when her face crumpled and she began to cry again, howling something about being so ugly that even _he_ took back his own confession.

'No! No! That's not what I meant!' he cried, panicking now, 'I meant it, I just didn't want to sound as if I was coming on too strong, after all you've only just broken up with Justin!'

Her howls quietened down a little after he'd said this and she looked at him with a curious expression, made slightly more hard to read by the blotchiness of her face. And then, to his complete and total astonishment, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his in a salty, albeit slightly wet, collision, that was ironically the sweetest moment of his life to date.

She held him there for a moment before pulling away, her face flushed but with pleasure, not embarrassment… there was no regret on her face at all, much to his amazement.

He stared at her, flabbergasted, before stammering pathetically.  
'I well, I just… well, I say!'

'No, don't,' she said quietly as she leant forwards again, 'there's no need to say anything at all…'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Brand New Colony" by the Postal Service._


	15. Luna x Neville

**XV  
****The Second Test of the Unexpected Hero**

**-x- Neville Longbottom & Luna Lovegood –x-**

'_How can I just let you walk away  
Just let you leave without a trace  
When I stand here taking every breath with you, oh  
you're the only one who really knew me at all…'_

It was a beautiful afternoon.

The sun had begun to droop wearily behind the crooked silhouette of The Burrow and as the hundred or so wedding guests that peppered the dewy lawn smiled bittersweet smiles of interwoven happiness and grief, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley kissed for the first time as husband and wife.

Sitting on the far left of the crowd with a pleasant smile on his face, one Neville Longbottom felt a small rush of affection course through him as he watched two of his dearest friends finally become united as one in a ceremony that should have been happier than it was. Undertones of bereavement aside however, it had been a beautiful service and now as everyone stood clapping and wiping stray tears from their eyes, Neville started, frightened, when someone walked up behind him and greeted him in a familiarly airy fashion.

'They look so happy, don't they?' 

With a slightly nervy twitch, Neville turned to see Luna Lovegood standing behind him, her flowing, champagne-coloured satin bridesmaid gown giving her extravagantly long blonde hair an interesting glow.

'Erm, yes, yes they do,' he replied a little awkwardly, casting a wary glance around as she continued to smile dreamily at him.

'It makes me sad to know I'll never be like that,' she said matter-of-factly with a distinct hint of wistfulness that he'd never heard in her voice before.

'Why, er, what makes you say that?' he asked as the guests around him began to move towards the refreshments and the chair he'd been leaning against disappeared, making him stumble a little.

'People find me too strange,' she said, walking away from him a little as if she expected him to follow, 'I don't really know any boys besides Harry that take me seriously.'

Neville winced. She had such a knack for brutal honestly and it was that about her that made him so distinctly uncomfortable. Truth be told, he'd thought he was getting quite used to her, having spent nearly an entire school year with her as his chief source of company, but it was moments like then that made him rethink this.

'Would you like to dance?'

As soon as he'd said it he'd instantly regretted it. Not because her face had lit up with a happy sort of glow he'd rarely ever seen in a girl, but because it made him feel sort of queasy – nervous even.

'I'd love to,' she replied, beaming as she walked back towards him.

'I, um, well; we'd best wait a little until Harry and Ginny have finished their first dance,' he invented wildly, feeling awful but unable to stop the approving roar of his brain as he continued to stammer, 'i-it'd be rude to interrupt their first wedding dance.'

'Don't be silly,' she said airily, leaning forward and taking a gentle hold on his hand, 'I'm sure they wouldn't mind.'

Seeing no choice but to give in, Neville stumbled after her as she glided serenely through the crowd and stopped on the dance floor a respectful distance away from the bride and groom. Ginny and Harry, surprised but not in the least annoyed, flashed them a small smile each and Luna took this as her cue to place one of his slightly sweaty hands on her slender waist and clasp his other in her right hand.

'A-aren't at least a little embarrassed?' he hissed uncomfortably as the crowd surrounding the dance floor murmured with curiosity, 'Don't you mind the staring?'

'No,' she answered with perfect sincerity, 'it's not really anything different to how people usually treat me.'

There it was again, that excruciating honesty that drove Neville to distraction… being a compassionate soul by nature and understanding just what it was like to be an outcast, it astonished him all the more that she could be so entirely unaware of the daily human practice of lying or sugar-coating one's words to make them less brutal-sounding.

'Besides,' she added as he contemplated taking her aside after this and explaining to her the seemingly foreign concept of tact, 'you're a very good dancer; you make me look less awkward.'

'Awkward?' Neville echoed unbelievingly; of all the things Luna Lovegood was, awkward was not one of them… she was too dreamy and fairy-like to ever be considered awkward.

'Well not so much awkward,' she said, 'but more… out of place.'

That, Neville – rather guiltily – felt, was a much better description, but one that puzzled him further in the context in which it had been used. How could he, Neville Longbottom, ever make anyone look less out of place? He himself was the master of being out of place – he'd practically written the book.

'I know what you're thinking,' Luna said softly, looking straight into his hazel eyes with her own pale blue ones, 'you're thinking that you're more out of place than I am.. but you're not, you know. You're a hero Neville; you helped Harry kill Lord Voldemort.'

His face flushing an intense shade of scarlet, Neville looked down at her modestly.  
'All I did was kill the snake.'

'Yes,' she replied, not blinking, 'but Harry couldn't have defeated Voldemort if you hadn't killed the snake.'

'C-can we talk about something else, please?' he asked suddenly, grief suddenly washing over him as he thought of all the people who'd died that day… thought of the bodies he'd spent hours helping Oliver Wood and a few others lift out of the castle.

'Am I making you uncomfortable?' she enquired, a strange expression in her eyes.

'Well, yes,' he breathed with a grimace.

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, stopping her movement and looking down at her feet in a most un-Luna-like fashion, 'I just wanted to make you realise how brave you are… you can do anything you want to Neville, you just have to realise that you have it in you.'

Dropping his hands from her waist and grip respectively, Neville stared. It wasn't like Luna to be so adamant about anything; it was much more her style to let people figure things out like this by themselves.

'I-you… d'you want a butterbeer?' he asked quickly, anything to get away from her intoxicating and unusual earnest just for a minute.

'No thank you,' she replied moving away from him a little, 'I should go and find my father.'

Turning, she began to walk away, weaving gracefully through the dancing couples that now filled the floor, leaving Neville standing by himself, thoroughly confused and feeling decidedly awkward and out of place.

And then, all of a sudden, the same rush of adrenaline that had surged through him the night of the Last Battle overpowered him in a heady immersion of power and bravery and he sprinted after her retreating form, scattering couples and drinks everywhere.

'Luna!'

Dreamily stopping in her tracks at the sound of her name, Luna smiled slightly as Neville stumbled up to her, his face flushed and his mouth curving upwards in a small smile that showed off just a hint of his uneven teeth.

'D-did you... Luna would you like to come for a coffee in Hogsmeade next week with me?' he asked, breathing heavily.

She studied him for a moment, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly before her face split into a grin. Her pale cheeks flushing with the first hints of a blush he'd ever seen on her, she nodded. 'I'd love to.'

'Oh, that's good,' he breathed out with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly with relief.

They stood in a companionable silence for a moment before she interrupted it suddenly, her airy, lilting voice cutting through the air.

'We'll have to drink tea though… caffeine attracts Gnargles, you know.'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Against All The Odds" by the Postal Service._

_so, i don't know whether gnargles are attracted to caffeine or not but i had to have something for Luna to say and well, gnargles seemed to fit. lol_

_x_


	16. Ginny x Harry

**XVI  
Martyr, Martyr.**

**-x- Ginny Weasley & Harry Potter –x-**

'_Tell me, tell me,  
what makes you think that you are invincible?  
I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure.  
Please don't tell me that I'm the only one that's vulnerable.  
Impossible.'_

To say Harry Potter had martyr-like tendencies was like saying that Fred and George Weasley looked sort of alike… it was a complete understatement.

That, of course, is not to say that he was the type of person who frequently bored others with his long-suffering talk and nor was he the type of person who would allow people to walk over him. He was just a bit too selfless for the taste of Ginny Weasley, who, it may be noted, was the strong and fiercely independent woman her mother had raised her to be – the perfect partner, in fact, for a martyr who needs reminding every now and then that he can't save the world every minute of every day.

A fact that only Fred and George themselves seemed to have figured out.

'Y'know Ginny, I think Harry's gone a bit off the deep end.' 

As he said this, Fred, along with his twin and younger sister, was lying sprawled across the drying grass at the back of their property watching lazily as Harry zoomed from one side of the unmown field to the other, occasionally punctuating this rather dull exercise with a few loop-the-loops.

'What makes you say that?' Ginny asked distractedly as she watched their raven-haired friend flit about with avid interest.

'Oh, well I just get the feeling that he's a bit too selfless for his own good,' replied Fred, exchanging amused looks with George when Ginny didn't immediately retort to this.

'What?' she said, her brown eyes still fixated on Harry, 'Oh, well he is a bit martyr-ish, yes.'

Unfortunately for him, Harry unknowingly reinforced Fred's point ten-fold when, with his Seeker's eyes, he spotted a baby sparrow fall from its nest in a nearby tree and start to plummet towards the ground with a pathetic little squawk. Lying himself flush against his broom, he zoomed forwards and nearing the tree began to dive, catching the fortunate little chick in one hand tenderly as he gently toppled from the broomstick and landed awkwardly in the grass.

'"A bit martyr-ish"?' echoed George with slight incredulity as Ginny got to her feet and raced towards Harry, already admonishing him from twenty feet away.

'Told you he's gone off the deep end,' said Fred with a slight air of satisfaction, lying back in the grass with a sigh and placing a long stalk of grass between his teeth.

'What the hell d'you think you're doing!' Ginny shrieked as she stormed up to the older boy who was still lying in the long grass, panting heavily, the tiny bird cowering in his outstretched hand.

'It – would've – died – if – I – hadn't – saved – it,' said Harry weakly, smiling lightly as the little sparrow tottered dizzily off of his hand towards its mother who was chirping at it from a few feet away.

'You could've died!' she cried, tossing her hands up in the air before stopping short as a jet of red light hit her square in the back and she collapsed in the grass beside him.

With a strangled yelp, Harry leapt to his feet, his wand raised as Fred and George fell about with laughter a distance away, George cackling hysterically and Fred half-laughing and half-choking on what looked to him like a piece of grass or something.

Frowning slightly, he turned back to Ginny who was lying sprawled on the ground, her long red hair splayed out around her face and her expression infinitely more peaceful than the one she'd been displaying seconds earlier. With a wry smile he sat down quietly beside her and waited for the Stunning spell to wear off.

A few minutes later she began to stir, and with a little whimper her eyes flickered open and widened with surprise as she found the startlingly green ones of Harry staring down at her with concern.

Transferring her body weight to her elbows, she sat up slightly.

'What happened? I feel like I've been Stunned.'

'You have,' he replied quietly with an indicative glance at the twins who were walking back up to The Burrow, still hiccoughing with laughter.

'Oh,' she said, glaring daggers at them as they turned to wink at her cheekily, 'gits.'

There was an awkward silence in which they sat, determinedly not looking at each other, and watched the little sparrow Harry had just saved snuggle up to its mother as she sat in the grass, unwilling to leave it on the ground and return to her nest.

'You know, Fred and George are right,' she said suddenly, breaking the quiet, 'you've developed some serious martyr-like tendencies Harry.'

'Martyr-like tendencies?' he echoed, staring at her, 'I'm not a martyr!' 

Ginny raised one graceful eyebrow.  
'Oh yeah, and what about your little stunt just then?'

'What?' he cried defensively, 'I told you: it would've died!' 

'Yeah, and you could've died yourself if you'd come out of that dive wrong! You could've broken your neck or anything!' she said heatedly, staring him down with those fiery brown eyes so like her mother's.

'Look,' he said quietly, looking down at his palms with a small amount of interest, 'I'm not a martyr, all right? I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a martyr.'

She shrugged.  
'I'm just saying… you can't save the world all the time Harry, it's not your sole responsibility.'

He smiled weakly.  
'Sometimes it feels like it is.'

'I know,' she said quietly, lying back in the grass and staring up at the clear blue sky, 'but you've just got to remember that its not… just try Harry, try now… just be a normal boy for once. I'm just Ginny Weasley and you're just Harry Potter… a normal girl and a normal boy.'

Looking a little awkward but at the same time intrigued, Harry followed her suit and laid down beside her, smiling as the flowery scent of her long red hair mingled with the smell of summer, intoxicating him.

They lay like that for several minutes before he felt some inexplicable feeling tear through him like lightning and in what seemed like an impulsive action, he leant over and pressed his lips to hers in a collision of chapped lips and a sharp intake of breath on both their parts.

He held her there for what could have been an eternity or several fleeting seconds before pulling away, breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed a bright scarlet.

'I um, I'm really, er –'

'Harry,' she interrupted him mid-stammer with what he found to be a rather adorable little frown, 'do you _want_ to kiss me?'

'Well um, yes,' he replied awkwardly.

'Do you _like_ kissing me?'

'Yes.'

'Then stop being a bloody martyr and kiss me already!'

He obliged… and most willingly, too, Fred and George noted as they watched them from inside The Burrow, identical smirks on their freckled faces.

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Vulnerable" by Secondhand Serenade_

_one more to go... -smiles-_

_x_


	17. Katie x Fred

**XVII  
****Firewhisky, Tabletops and the  
Mother of All Hangovers.**

**-x- Katie Bell & Fred Weasley –x-**

'_I'm going to have to drunkenly  
confess to you  
That you drive me crazy  
And you know it's true  
And yeah, maybe  
I might have to kiss you.__'_

The Gryffindor Tower was in a state of enjoyable chaos as one Fred Weasley clambered into it via the portrait hole at eight o'clock that night.

Covered completely in scarlet and gold and crowded to the point of claustrophobia as almost every single Gryffindor student in the school partied away, the Common Room exploded with cheers when he walked in, still dressed in his muddy quidditch robes and a huge grin plastered across his dirty face as he, George and Katie Bell dumped their armfuls of "borrowed" food and drink upon a couple of coffee tables.

'WE WON THE CUUUPPPP!' roared Lee Jordan over the cheers and instantly the whole room seemed to quake as everyone began to scream, if it were possible, even louder.

Laughing raucously, Fred allowed himself to be smothered in hugs and claps on the back before frowning slightly and breaking away from the crowd as his captain, the Scottish maniac Oliver Wood sprinted through the mass of scarlet-clad students and swept Katie up into his arms, spinning her around with joyous yells. Shrieking with laughter, she gripped his forearms tightly as he spun around and around, knocking people over left, right and centre.

Scoffing, Fred rolled his eyes and cracked open the bottle of Firewhisky he had nicked from the kitchens when Dobby had had his back turned. A sour look on his face, he poured himself a shot and chucked it down his throat, wincing slightly as it burned on the way down, instantly warming him from the inside out.

'Pour me one, Fred?' he heard someone call and he turned to see Angelina Johnson, of all people, standing a few feet away with an expectant grin.

'You?' he spluttered, staring at her, '_you_ want alcohol?'

'Why not?' she replied with a shrug, 'you only party like this once.'

'We might win again next year,' he argued before catching the look on her face and hastily pouring one for her and another for Alicia who standing beside her smiling dreamily as George and Lee practiced their vaulting skills on the fading scarlet lounges to the tumultuous applause of the crowd.

'Here,' he said, walking over and handing the two girls their shot glasses.

'Eurgh, no thanks Fred,' said Alicia with a grimace, handing the glass back to him, 'why don't you give it to Katie? You know she'll try anything.'

'Um, she's also younger than us,' Fred remarked pointedly, the alcohol not his only concern as he watched his young friend talk animatedly with their seventh year Captain, who was looking a little too engrossed in the conversation for his taste.

'Aw, c'mon Fred, don't get all protective on her, she's only a year behind us,' said Alicia, a glint in her pale blue eyes that annoyed him, 'besides I bet she's really funny when she's drunk.'

Shrugging, he ambled over to Katie, who was now having her thigh slapped by Oliver in what Fred felt was an unnecessary kind of way and handed her the glass. 'Here Kates.'

'Are you trying to get me drunk, Fredrick Weasley?' she asked obnoxiously with a grin, accepting it and sniffing it suspiciously.

'Yep,' he replied with a grin, feeling his stomach roar with approval as Oliver looked slightly put-out.

'Don't you think she's a little young for Firewhisky?' said the older boy with a glance at the amber liquid, 'she's only fourteen.'

It took all of Fred's strength not to immediately fire back with "well apparently she's not too young for _you_", but he managed to successfully hold it in, instead duplicating Katie's shot glass and handing the new one out to him.

'Here, now you don't have to be jealous.'

Katie snorted with amusement and threw back her shot, coughing a bit as it went down. 'Ooh, that's strong.'

As he raised one ginger eyebrow, Fred felt a deliciously evil plan formulate in his brain. Reaching out for her glass, he refilled it and then duplicated it, raising his own in a toast. 'To the Cup!'

'To the Cup!' Katie echoed and together they threw back their shots, a disgruntled Oliver scowling as they did so.

'Nice of you to include _me_ in on the toast, I'm only your Captain and all,' Oliver said dejectedly, getting up from the couch and grinning at Katie, 'I'm going to go and spike Percy's butterbeer, want to come?'

Thinking quickly, Fred flicked his wand wildly and music began to play, swiftly filling the Common Room. Startled but pleased, many of the students began to dance around them, gyrating and swaying to the beat.

'Want to dance?'

Katie, torn, looked from one to the other before leaping to her feet.  
'Actually, I'm going to go and talk to Ange and Alicia.'

Oliver's face fell, but Fred felt his light up. His plan was working just how he wanted it to…

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Fred hung back behind the main crowd of people, watching with amusement as Katie got more and more tipsy with every distant refilling charm he placed on her shot glass. He could tell that Oliver knew exactly what was happening (the back of his head felt disturbingly prickly, as if the two large brown orbs of the Scotsman were boring holes into it), but had apparently decided that Katie was out of bounds and was now chatting up Angelina, who was apparently as delighted with this idea as one could get.

There was, however, one slight flaw in his plan – a flaw that he had failed to notice and therefore remedy – and that was the constant stream of Firewhisky he was consuming himself. Every time Katie struck up a conversation with a guy that wasn't him, Fred, in what could very nearly be deemed as unconscious action, would throw back a shot, and as Katie was quite the social butterfly, this was quite often. In fact, by the time the school clock tolled eleven, he was having trouble aiming his refilling charms properly and had already accidentally set Hermione Granger's cat Crookshanks on fire twice.

'Not looking too good, brother of mine,' remarked a voice from beside him and he turned in a slightly groggy fashion to see George standing beside him with a wide smirk on his freckled face, 'you're a git, you know that? Never think about anything, do you?'

'I have the sudden urge to do something incredibly brave and impressive,' muttered Fred, completely ignoring his twin, and with an unsteady salute, strolled off towards Katie who was now accidentally sloshing firewhisky all over a disgusted looking Percy.

'Kate-ayyy!'

Turning unsteadily at the sound of her name, Katie began to giggle hysterically.  
'Hey Freddie! Haahaa, I was jusht telling Pershy the funniesht joke ever… you haff to hear it.'

'Dance with me, love?' he asked, apparently able to hold his firewhisky, and consequently his vocabulary, a bit better than the now totally trashed little blonde.

She scrutinised him with glazed eyes for a moment before nodding, throwing her arms around his neck. 'I don't like thish shong much though.'

Fred laughed.  
'What d'you want to listen to?'

'Michael Jackshon,' she replied firmly and then bursting into giggles at the bemused look on his face.

'Who the bloody hell's that?' he asked, bewildered, as she laughed at him.

'Muggle shinger,' she said, grabbing his wand and pointing it at the small music contraption that was humming away happily in the corner, brandishing it wildly and accidentally blowing it up, 'Oopshs.'

'Never mind, Kates,' he said, snorting with laughter and gently extracting the wand from her grip, 'c'mon, why don't you sit down and I'll get us some butterbeers?'

Nodding complacently, she sat down meekly upon the abandoned scarlet lounge and watched with half-conscious interest as he walked over to the table and cracked upon a pair of butterbeers, bringing them back and sitting down next to her with a smile.

'Fanks Freddie,' she said with a wobbly raise of her bottle before taking a swig from it.

'You, my dear Katie, are _completely_ trashed,' he remarked, taking a large gulp of the slightly off-tasting butterbeer.

'Am not!' she protested, sloshing a bit of her drink onto her filthy quidditch robes, 'am not, am not, am not!'

'Mmhmm, sure,' he replied, rolling his eyes and exchanging looks with Oliver, who was sitting in the armchair next to them with an unusual glint in his brown eyes.

'He's right Kates,' said their captain, 'you're completely tras-'

'And this butterbeer tastes funny,' remarked Fred, glancing down into the tankard with a shrug, talking straight over the top of Oliver, 'ah well, I've been drinking firewhisky all night, probably just forgotten how it tastes…'

It was apparent about half an hour later, however, that there had indeed been something funny about his butterbeer when he had the sudden, completely drunken urge to clamber atop the nearest coffee table and bellow "OI!" as loudly at the crowd of students as he possibly could.

Shocked, they all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him as he swayed unsteadily above them, a huge, stupid grin plastered across freckled, somewhat flushed face.

'I proposhe a toasht to Katie Bell,' he slurred, brandishing an empty tankard above his head wildly, 'becaushe she ish the mosht beautiful girl in thish room!'

There was a moment of bewildered murmuring, in which the crowd seemed to discuss this before they all raised their assorted beverages and shouted 'To Katie!'

Katie herself was half-asleep by this time, the firewhisky really taking its toll on her body and she was lying sprawled across the lounge giggling quietly, amusing herself now and then by flicking bits of chip and cake at Oliver who was sitting in the armchair beside her watching on with an expression crossed between amusement and disgust.

Nodding self-satisfactorily, Fred cleared his throat.  
'Katie, I haff somefink to shay to you… ahem, I lurve youuuu – whoa, argh!'

Toppling off the table, he landed spread-eagled beside the lounge, looking up at her with a drunken smirk. 'Kishh me, Katie?'

'Alllll riiight then,' she slurred in reply and bestowed a rather wet, completely misaimed kiss upon his nose.

-x-x-x-

'Get up, you stupid git.'

Awoken in a most unpleasant way by a violent kick to his ribs, Fred blinked blearily up at three identically blurred versions of George, all of whom were looking down at him with a mingled expression of amusement and disgust.

'Whatsatime?' he muttered, groaning painfully as a blinding headache hit him with full force.

'Time you got a brain,' replied his brother who exchanged a glance with three Lee Jordans, 'you do realise Oliver made you look like a complete fool?'

'What's Oliver got to do with this?' Fred asked as he sat up slowly, 'I just thought I had the mother of all hangovers.'

'He spiked your butterbeer,' answered George as a feeble female groan issued from somewhere to Fred's right – or was it left? 'by the time the party was finished last night you'd screamed your undying love for Katie about four times and even managed to have a really messy snog with her underneath the coffee table – something that, hopefully, she won't remember, being the only other person more trashed than you.'

'I kissed her?' Fred echoed in wonder, glancing around at the lounge where the topic of their conversation was batting Lee away with one shaky hand, the other holding her pounding forehead gingerly.

'Not really, no,' replied George, 'more like drowned her in saliva.'

'Oh.'

Clambering to his feet with the help of his twin, Fred shuffled over to Katie and sat down gently next to her sprawled body.  
'You all right, Kates?'

'I feel like someone hit me in the skull repeatedly with a beaters bat,' she replied sourly, grabbing his shoulder for support and sitting up slowly, 'you're a git, I can't believe you got me drunk.'

'I'm sorry Kates,' he said quietly, moving so that he had an arm around her to support her, 'I just – never mind, you're right, I am a git.'

'A git that's in love with me though, eh?' she replied with a weak laugh as he paled visibly, 'turns out maybe I wasn't more trashed than you, after all, huh Fred?'

He groaned, pressing his forehead into her shoulder with mortification.  
'You remembered? Fred Weasley, you're an idiot.'

'True, true,' she said stroking the back of his ginger head with one shaky hand, 'but a lovable one, so it's okay.'

Looking up at her, he grinned.  
'Really?'

'Really,' she affirmed, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

'Right, well I'm just going to go and help Lee locate Oliver,' said George from a few metres away, a grimace on his face, 'and then maybe later when you feel up to it Fred, you can come and free him from the broom shed and beat him senseless..?'

'There's no need,' Fred replied happily, grinning broadly, 'he's a good guy, is old Oliver.'

George stared at him.  
'I think Oliver put worse than alcohol in your butterbeer… Lee! Quick! Find Dobby! We need a hangover cure and an antidote for Essence of Insanity!'

'So, I'm thinking,' said Katie softly when George had finished noisily vacated the building, 'that we should probably win the Cup next year so we can have another party and get Alicia and George together.'

'That's my girl,' Fred replied, beaming at her before starting to ham it up with his usual theatrics, 'I'm so proud, you're growing up Katiekinns.'

'Shut up Fred, Merlin you're an idiot sometimes,' Katie said, rolling her eyes and leaning in to kiss him.

'Ah,' murmured Fred into her mouth, still grinning, 'but I'm a lovable one, so it's okay.'

* * *

_A/N: lyrics used - "Love List" by Eskimo Joe._

_the last one! -sniffs pathetically-  
i'm kinda going to miss these.. hmm. but yes, all over.  
oh, and sorry this was a day late, Giddy, by the way.. i was doing so well until yesterday. lol. i hadn't missed a day yet._

_ah well. hope you enjoyed it darlin' and thanks so much to everyone else who reviewed - you guys are so awesome! made my day for seventeen days, pretty much, those great reviews! thank you!_

_love,  
Ash x_


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